Paper Flowers
by dentedsky
Summary: On Harry's sixteenth birthday a ‘bump’ in the night startles him out of peace and his world once again turns upside down. The war is raging, ripping away lives like so many paper flowers. Slash, past-HxSi, HxD
1. Write Me a River

**Paper Flowers**  
By dented-sky 

Rated R  
past-Harry Sirius, Harry/Draco, Harry/MOC, Pansy/female!Blaise, Seamus/Justin, Harry/Hermione/Ron implied, Moon/Nott implied, (eventual) Harry/Justin  
OotP spoilers, fantasy, action, adventure, cross-generation, underage sex, violence, language, romance, angst

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Lyrics and quotes belong to their respective owners.

Author's Notes: Thank you to my Beta's Marley, Amber and Catherine. Chapter dedication goes to Marley, who, even though I didn't know her, was eager and quick to Beta this fic. Thanks heaps guys! 

**Part I – Blood Magic**

**Chapter One – Write Me a River**

In my field of paper flowers  
And candy clouds of lullaby  
I lie inside myself for hours  
- Imaginary (Evanescence)

Your presence still lingers here  
And it won't leave me alone  
These wounds won't seem to heal  
- My Immortal (Evanescence)

What do I do when lightening strikes me  
And I wake to find that you're not there  
What do I got to do to be heard  
It's a sad, sad situation and it's getting more and more absurd  
- Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word (Elton John)

Lying on his stomach, on a bed too small for him that squeaked when he moved and which grazed his skin when he turned under the scratchy sheets, lay a skinny teenaged boy.

He had jet-black hair and brilliant dark green eyes, slightly obscured by the large glasses that were currently trying to slip down his nose due to his sweat from the summer heat. His pillow was propped under his chest and he was currently riffling through a stack of letters that were thrown haphazardly on his bed. Every now and again he would check his watch.

It was 11:32 p.m. and he would be sixteen in less than half an hour. To pass the time he was going through his friends' letters that had been sent during the holidays. Boredom had taken him down this route, as he had not gotten any letters for quite a while.

Other than letters from his usual friends, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Hagrid and the usual letter from the Order of the Phoenix, he had also been corresponding with Cho Chang, a pretty Ravenclaw girl and his ex-girlfriend. He found it was easy to confide in her about a secret he had never told anyone before, and she always seemed to have positive advice to give. He lifted the letter and read.

Harry,

It must have been hard to hide it like that; I myself have never been in that situation.

I understand if you are still mourning, but I don't think even Sirius would want to see you so sad. Harry, please, seek some help. Talk to an adult. There are charms and things -

Harry refolded the letter. In the past, whenever he had wanted to talk to an adult, he would have talked to Sirius. Harry clenched his jaw, feeling the familiar prickling behind his eyes.

He did not want to forget either; he had heard it all. Potions, spells, enchantments; they all offered to take his memories, and therefore - his pain away. He shook head. No; Sirius had gone. They were not going to take his memories away too. He picked up another letter, this one older and from Hermione.

Harry,

How are you feeling? I can imagine you're sick of that question now.

I'm currently flying on the plane to - 

Harry skipped down. It was just describing her holiday and he had read it before.

I was reading up on Wizarding therapy, Harry. There are spells and potions, of course, but there are also rituals, superstitions and other such nonsense. I don't believe in it myself, but I thought the practice of it could be therapeutic psychologically.

There is the Ancient Art of one thousand paper flowers. It is similar to the Japanese idea of one thousand paper cranes, do you know it? Only the outcome is different. What you do is write letters to the loved one who died, and fold each one into an origami flower. Once you reach one thousand letters or rather, paper flowers, you perform a ritual with fire where the smoke carries the paper flowers to the Heavens where your loved one can read them.

It's supposed to be magic but most Wizards don't believe in it.

Harry could imagine her scowling at the thought of it, and felt a pang of loneliness, and wondered again why she had not written in over a week. He stopped reading and put the letter down. It was true; most Wizards and Witches did not believe in magic where they could not see the outcome. It was like flipping a coin and not bothering to see which side it landed on. Harry had noticed that when Wizards performed a spell, they always watched it end, to see if it was strong or weak, or on target. Even if the spell was cast in nonchalance, the caster always watched the spell from the corner of their eye, even for a split second.

Harry checked his watch again. Only ten minutes had passed.

Leaning over the bed, Harry stretched out and pulled up the loose floorboard. Underneath was his usual food offerings, school things and more letters, but there also sat a grey-wood chest. He picked the chest up and placed it on the bed in front of him. It was plain and quite ugly, in Harry's opinion; grey like dead wood and storm clouds, but it was given as an early birthday present from Hagrid, and he loved it all the same. Opening the lid, he peered inside.

Within the chest were several small origami flowers, some parchment, small silver scissors, ink and quill. Harry pulled out everything, save the flowers. Shutting the lid, he leant the parchment on the chest, dipped the quill in the ink and thought about what he was going to write. After a short moment he scribbled:

Sirius,

I miss you, and I'm so bored. I miss being in your arms, and I miss holding you late at night, and most of all I miss talking to you and laughing, because I haven't had either of those things for a while. My friends have stopped writing to me, and my subscription to the Daily Prophet_ is late._

I still remember what you taste like.

-Harry.

He picked up the small scissors and cut away the message from the rest of the parchment. Then he proceeded to fold the paper into a small paper flower.

Hermione was right, it was therapeutic. It felt good to just write messages to Sirius, even if he could not get a reply. The idea that Sirius would one day read his letters, sitting up in Heaven, drinking tea with his parents, made him feel that he was not so alone after all. Maybe Sirius will read them aloud so his parents can hear them too.

Checking his watch again, Harry gasped. Only five more minutes until he was sixteen.

A small owl swooped in through the open window and set itself on his desk. Harry got up and put a knut in the owl's little pouch, then pulled the _Daily Prophet_ from the owl's leg. It immediately flew back out the window.

Harry absently flicked through the paper, and then frowned.

Deaths, he read,_ Killing… Raped… Blood…_

He continued to flick through, glancing random words and pictures.

Destroyed… Fallen… Casualties… 

Flicking through once more, he felt his anger silently start to rise.

Fires… Smoke… Burned…

He started to pace the room.

Death Eaters… Abduction… Ritual… Sightings…

He stopped and took a deep breath. But his anger would still not subside.

The _Daily Prophet_ was full of bad news.

Really bad news.

Harry started pacing again, flicking through the newspaper, but slower now so he caught snatches of sentences rather than just words.

Hogsmeade wards taken down by a silent attack…

Harry frowned harder and paced the room more furiously. His anger continued to rise at an alarming rate; starting from his stomach, moving upwards until his cheeks reddened from the heat of it.

Half of Diagon Alley burnt… Death Toll…

How could they let this happen? Where was the Order? Where was the Ministry of Magic?

He got his answer when he turned the page: _Ministry Siege... Taken and dumped… Relocation…_

Harry wanted to yell. His eyes widened and sparked like green flame with hate and anger. Why wasn't anyone doing anything? Why were they losing a War only just beginning? Harry felt helpless. He was stuck in his cousin's small spare bedroom, unable to go out there into the World, _his_ World, to help. To fight.

Harry was barely conscious of the cramping in his knuckles from clenching his fists too hard. He growled insanely under his breath. He wished he could kick something hard but he knew it would wake up his relatives and then there would be Hell to pay.

Then he turned the page and froze. As quickly as it came, his anger abated and thick, cold fear took over him as his face turned a deathly shade of pale.

Harry stood frozen on the spot, staring at the page with wide, frightened eyes as his World spun around him and out of control. He felt light headed and detached, as if he was just a spirit sitting in the body of a stranger. He only just caught on that he was trembling.

The page had an article which told of a recent group kidnapping. But that was not what scared Harry.

On the bottom half of the page was a list. It was of all the Wizards and Witches that were currently missing and assumed abducted. Next to the each name was their age and Town of Residency. Harry realized, while staring fixated at the list, that they were all less than twenty years of age.

No. Please, no.

Boot, Terry. 16. Aylesbury.

He scanned down.

Chang, Cho. 17. Brighton.

Jaw clenched, his eyes flickered down to another name.

Finnigan, Seamus. 16. Limerick.

Harry's hands were trembling violently as he scanned down once more.

Goldstein, Anthony. 15. Edinburgh.

Then Harry saw the next name down. He yelled out loud, dropping the newspaper as if it had just burnt his hands.

Granger, Hermione.

No, please God. Not Hermione. Harry collapsed onto the floor. It couldn't be real, could it? 

But then it was. They were Harry's friends and they had been kidnapped, possibly by Death Eater forcing them to join their ranks. Or maybe they had been abducted for torture for the Death Eater's sadistic pleasure. Maybe they rape them; tie them to the bed naked. Maybe they condemn them to slavery, backs whipped to shreds by leather whips.

What if Hermione was in danger? What if she was currently being tortured and screaming? What if she needed his help and he was just stuck here, sitting uselessly on the floor?

Harry started to panic. His breath quickened and he ran a nervous and sweaty hand through his already damp hair.

Hermione… kidnapped by Death Eaters.

He barely registered that he had been sixteen for well over half an hour, or that there was a loud banging noise coming from downstairs.

I'll kill them.

Bang.

I'll rip them apart.

Bang.

If they lay a single finger on her…

Bang.

…I'll squeeze the blood out of their veins with my bare hands.

Bang.

And get a hammer, and bang…

Bang.

…Bang?

BANG.

Harry blinked, then shot up and grabbed his wand. He inched towards his door like he had around this time last year, and slowly opened it. (Uncle Vernon had gotten rid of all the locks because he was scared Lupin and the others would hurt him if he didn't.) 

The hall was dark as he stepped out of the room. He inched down the stairs, and then realized someone was banging on the front door.

BANG.

Harry turned the downstairs hall light on, blinking in the sudden light. Looking around, he stopped and jumped slightly. Dudley was huddled in the kitchen doorway.

"Dudley!" Harry hissed in an angry whisper, "What the hell are you doing there sitting in the bloody dark?"

BANG.

"Shhh!" the larger boy hissed back. "I'm spying! It could be that other gang from down town."

Harry rolled his eyes and whispered loudly, "Well go outside and tell them to bugger off!"

BANG.

"No way!" whispered Dudley as Harry tried to peer through the tainted glass door, only to see a completely dark night, "You want me to die out there?"

Harry thought it better not to answer that question. Impatient, he strode towards the door, wand raised.

He threw it open and froze when he saw who his visitor was.

Leaning against the door frame, hair slightly tousled, cold grey eyes sparkling and a smirk plastered over his pale, pasty face, was Draco Malfoy.

-TBC-


	2. Merging of Worlds

**Paper Flowers**  
By dented-sky 

Rated R  
past-Harry Sirius, Harry/Draco, Harry/MOC, Pansy/female!Blaise, Seamus/Justin, Harry/Hermione/Ron implied, Terry/Ginny, Moon/Nott implied, (eventual) Harry/Justin  
OotP spoilers, fantasy, action, adventure, cross-generation, underage sex, violence, language, romance, angst

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Lyrics and quotes belong to their respective owners.

Author's Notes: Thank you to Marley and Amber for Beta-ing this chapter. The three of us had kittens over this bloody chapter. Chapter dedication goes out to bluebutterfly9 because she was the first to review and she wrote the best review I have ever gotten. Thank you soooo much babe! You made my heart sing.

** Chapter Two – Merging of Worlds **

In my field of paper flowers  
And candy clouds of lullaby  
I lie inside myself for hours  
- Imaginary (Evanescence)

When moonlight crawls along the street  
Chasing away the summer heat  
Footsteps outside somewhere below  
The World revolves, I've let it go  
The candy-sweetness sent of you  
It beads my skin, I'm stained in you  
There are no words, there's only truth  
- Insatiable (Darren Hayes)

I know that kiss will be my last  
No more his song  
The tune upon his lips has past  
I sing alone while I watch the ocean  
My lover's gone  
No Earthly ships will ever bring him home again  
- My Lover's Gone (Dido)

"You think you're a big man, Potter. You wait. I'll have you."  
- Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K.Rowling)

Draco Malfoy was standing on the front step of number Four, Privet drive, Little Whinging at one o'clock in the morning. 

He was also smirking at a glaring Harry, who had his wand pointed at Malfoy's head.

Harry would have thought it rather funny, or maybe even strange, had he _not_ been Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Always-Had-Strange-Things-Happen-To-Him-All-The-Bloody-Time.

He just found this extremely irritating. Malfoy always brought trouble and annoyance to Harry's life, and Harry thought that he _really_ did not need this right now.

These things were always dumped on him around this time of the year, Harry realized. It seemed as if it was always timed: a month of peace and boredom then something strange happens that throws him off guard into a whirlpool of adventure and inevitable danger. A bang at his front door and his world is thrown into chaos once again.

It was almost unsurprising that Draco Malfoy should turn up on Harry Potter's doorstep in the middle of Muggle suburbia, Harry thought. He hated to admit it, but Malfoy had always been quite a large part of Harry's life: someone to compete against, as well as a fountain of useful information regarding the Other Side. In reality, Malfoy had never _ meant_ to help Harry, but in a way he always did. His snide little remarks containing small hints of information, allowing Harry to piece together facts that ended up as clues of great importance.

Malfoy in the campsite forest, almost _ warning_ Harry that the Death Eaters currently parading the grounds would come after Hermione.

Malfoy on the train, dropping the hint that Harry should not be _dogging_ around; a warning of Sirius's safety.

Malfoy during Care of Magical Creatures class, dropping hints about Hagrid's declining health.

Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy.

And Malfoy at the end of fourth year, expressing that Harry had chosen the losing side.

A part of Harry had found this a strange turning point in his life. Harry did not doubt that he had ever chosen the wrong side, but when Malfoy had gone and said it to him _like that_, it seemed to make Harry wake up and realize the truth:

There were two different sides. Good and Evil. _Fighting each other_.

It saddened him, and he resented Malfoy for making him feel that way.

He also resented Malfoy for currently standing on his front doorstep.

Harry had just found out all his friends had been kidnapped and were taken God knows where, and now Malfoy wanted to annoy Harry with his uninvited presence?

Malfoy was in for it this time.

A curse was on his lips and just as he was about to hex the smirking Slytherin into oblivion, a rather bushy-haired someone ran past Malfoy and enveloped Harry in a tight hug.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione whispered loudly, "we're so sorry we're late and oh! We have so much to tell you and how are you? And happy birthday Harry!"

"Hermione!" Harry breathed, "I was so worried," He squeezed her just as tight, holding onto her for dear life, making sure she was real and feeling her body against his. "I thought you were kidnapped! I thought they had taken you away."

Hermione pulled back, looked at Harry and smiled. "So the _Daily Prophet_ came through, did it? Well, as you can see we're alive and well."

"Yes," said Harry, "I can see that." He gave her a quick chaste kiss on the lips. Pausing, he glanced over at Malfoy who was still leaning on the doorframe, currently glaring at Harry and Hermione, his body tense, an emotion on his face that Harry could not decipher. Harry sneered. "Hermione," he said slowly, "What is _he_ doing here?"

Ron chose that moment to walk through the door, grinning. "Hullo Harry!" He frowned, staring and Harry and Hermione who were still holding each other. "I think you can let go of Hermione now." Harry heard Malfoy snicker and push himself off the doorframe to head upstairs.

Hermione let go. "Don't worry, Harry, we'll explain everything later, but we've got to hurry."

"We don't want to stay here any longer than we have to," Ron said with a grimace.

Harry looked up the stairs to where Malfoy had just disappeared into his aunt and uncle's room. "I don't care. What is he doing here?"

Ron grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him up the stairs. "It's sort of hard to explain, Mate, but Malfoy's on our side."

"Well, he isn't really," Hermione shouted from downstairs as Ron and Harry entered Harry's room. "But it's kind of complicated. Don't forget to bring down your Galleon, Harry!" She added, as Ron shut the door behind them. Harry heard her say a muffled, "_Pertrificus Totalus_," before he heard the _thump_ of Dudley falling to the floor.

"Come on, Harry," Ron instructed as he opened Harry's trunk. "Pack your things, and don't forget your broom and that magic Galleon."

Harry gathered up the items from beneath the loose floorboard, and chucked them in his trunk. Then Ron cried, "_Pack!"_ with a sweeping motion of his wand to gather the rest of Harry's belongings.

Harry decided to let Ron and Hermione's lack of an explanation for Malfoy slide for now; he trusted Ron, and if Ron could hold back on his hate for the Slytherin, maybe Harry could to. He told himself Ron would explain everything better later when they were not in such a rush to get out of the house.

Then something else occurred to Harry as his belongings were being flown into his trunk. "Ron," he said slowly, "how can you do magic? What about the Ministry?"

"Haven't you read the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Yeah…."

"The Ministry of Magic has gone down, Harry," he said with a sigh. "They haven't got time for half the laws now. Besides," he added with an angry frown, "this is War. We _need_ magic."

Harry was happy he had finally gotten one of his questions answered, but he suddenly felt a lot more popping up in his mind. "And why is Malfoy in my aunt and uncle's room?" He may not like his relatives, but he knew Malfoy would love to seriously hurt any Muggle that came his way. "And why are you and Hermione wearing… whatever it is you're wearing?" he asked as an afterthought.

Ron and Hermione's clothes seemed very strange to Harry. They both wore dark clothes under a heavy black cloak. Harry looked at Ron closely. The black, bell-sleeved robe was clean and well pressed; it looked made of thick, heavy material. The sleeves were long, and the robe did up tightly from the hips to the neck with silver buckles up the left side, where it ended with a leather collar, fastened with a large silver buckle. There were also leather straps fastened with silver buckles, similar to the one around Ron's neck, around Ron's arms just above his elbows, about two inches wide. Ron looked as if he had something bulky on underneath his robe, like he was wearing some very thick armour.

His trousers were long, black and thick, ending in a boot-leg. Ron's dark leather boots peeked out from under the trousers, and the soles were thick. There was also a silver-buckled leather strap around his right thigh, where Harry could see a small knife holder and a handle peeking out from inside it. Ron also wore small leather gloves with grip on the palms, and the fingers cut off. He had a thick belt on holding up the trousers around his hips. His robe billowed around his legs and Harry thought he actually looked rather _cool_.

"Say goodbye to Hedwig," Ron said sadly, ignoring Harry's questions. "We can't take her where we're going."

Harry snapped out of his evaluation of his friends' clothes. "Why?" he blurted.

"Because," said Ron, "we're in hiding and we can't have owls hanging around. Look," he added as he saw Harry's forlorn face, "you may be able to see her before school starts. We have a special way of sending and receiving mail."

Harry crossed over to Hedwig's cage, opening it and letting her hop onto his arm. "Why are we going into hiding?"

"War, Harry."

"But _why_?"

Ron looked at Harry crossly. "We can't talk about it now."

"Why not?"

"We don't know how safe it is here."

Harry stroked Hedwig's feathers and whispered a few sad goodbyes. He was frustrated with Ron, and it reminded him of the time when Ron and Hermione had written letters to him last year that held no information. No matter how much he had asked, they never said anything. But it was worth a try, even now.

He could not trust himself to look at Ron. "I want to know everything," he said in a low, menacing tone. "And I want to know _now_."

There was a small pause, and then Ron took a deep breath. "Malfoy went into your aunt and uncle's room to put a charm on them so they will keep sleeping. The last thing we need is for them to wake up and delay our trip; because, we are, in fact, quite _late_." Harry let Hedwig out the window, saying one last sad goodbye. "And Hermione and I are wearing uniform. _Locomotor _trunk." Realizing that was all Ron was going to tell him, Harry growled and resisted the urge to spit. He picked up his broom and magic Galleon and followed Ron, stomping angrily out of the room.

Downstairs, Hermione and Malfoy were tending to what looked like a fat body wrapped in a large white bag on a long levitated stretcher.

Harry knew it was Dudley currently being tied down. "What the hell are you doing?"

Hermione turned around. "Oh Harry! Have you got the Galleon?" she asked, ignoring his question. Harry was thoroughly irritated with everyone not answering his questions. Ron took the trunk and Harry's broom outside.

"Yeah," he muttered, handing her the Galleon. "What are you doing with Dudley?"

"You know, Potter," drawled Malfoy as he tied Dudley's feet to the stretcher, "I don't think I'll ever get sick of torturing your relatives."

Harry could not help but agree. He turned back to Hermione. "But what - "

"Watch carefully Harry," she interrupted, fiddling with the Galleon and holding it up to the light, "see this lone number here?"

"Yeah," Harry said again, still annoyed. "What about it?"

"It's a code we've decided on. Change the number to one, and it tells the rest of us that you're safe. Change it to two, it tells us you are safe and that you have just completed a mission. Change it to three and it means you're in danger and need help; and changing it to four means you've just completed a mission but you are in a sticky situation and you need help. Five is for back-up.

"Remember that Harry, it's important!" She handed the Galleon back to him. "I told the others that if we found you safe and sound we would change it to two, so you should change it now." Harry got out his wand, and stared for a second at the fake money in his hand. 

It was the Master Coin Hermione had given him during a D.A. meeting last year. It had seven numbers along the edge: six were for the date, and if Harry changed the date on his coin, its daughter coins would change too. There was an extra number Harry had never known the function of, but now, he finally did. He pressed the tip of his wand to the seventh number. "_Proteanis transmote_ two."

Hermione turned to Ron who had just come back inside, and Malfoy. "Are we ready to go?"

Malfoy gave a slight nod as he levitated the stretcher outside, and Ron said, "Yeah, are you two?"

A few minutes later all four teenagers were outside the house, standing on the dry and crispy lawn, breathing in the warm summer air. Harry put his jumper on; he new it would be cold if they were to fly by broomstick. He had been asking where they were going, but no one wanted to answer.

Hermione was tying the stretcher to her broomstick and Ron had Harry's trunk tied to his. Then Harry realized something and his eyes widened.

"You've all got Firebolts!"

"Honestly," drawled Malfoy, "Don't you _read_? You'd think the Savior of all Wizard Kind would read, wouldn't you?"

"It was in the _Daily Prophet_, Harry," Hermione clarified regretfully as the four mounted their brooms, Ron in front of Harry and Hermione and Malfoy on either side, "Diagon Alley got raided, so we managed to steal some supplies."

Harry realized this all sounded very wrong. Firstly, he was about to fly with Malfoy to a place Harry did not know. Secondly, Hermione just admitted that she stole things from a Wizarding Village, and thirdly, they were kidnapping Dudley and taking him with them.

Ron spotted Harry's wide-eyes and exasperated expression, and grinned. "Come on, mate!" he said over his shoulder, "The Army needs its Leader!"

And with that the four of them pushed off and were suddenly high in the air, flying through the sky.

The wind was like a thick ferocious monster of the night, whispering secrets as Harry sped through the chill of an early morning of the seventh month. The rasping breath chilled him from flesh to bone, whipping his cloak around his legs and biting at his frozen fingers as he grasped tightly to his broom. It was like fresh, crispy dark pressing against his flight and freedom as he flew on air and wooden instrument, playing the song of a sad youth escaping the house that was never a home, and pushing up memories that were not thought, but felt.

Harry had been flying for an hour now, with Ron in front, Hermione below and Malfoy circling him. He felt the weight of his limbs screaming for sleep, so it was no wonder that while he was sailing the sky, he was sinking into memories of a lost lover.

When Harry had found himself in an old Wizard's mansion known as The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black of Grimmald Place last summer, it was then that he finally saw his Godfather Sirius Black after what was to the two of them, a too long a time to be separated. Puberty had grasped Harry in such a way so as he saw Sirius in a new light of glowing lust: skin healthier than before, muscles toned and sharp as if grown in a small amount of time and hair like liquid black, feathered against his shoulder blades. It was the strange habit of only ever wearing boots, worn jeans, tight white T-shirt and cold blue eyes which gave Sirius the air of lustful danger; a darkness and strength that Harry devoured with every step Sirius took.

These variables and others allowed Harry to love Sirius in a way Harry had never deemed possible. Harry's body sung and his mind danced with dreams, brought on by Sirius's hair brushing against Harry's arm, or when their legs accidentally touched under the dinner table, or the wistful exchange of smiles. Small touches and innocent looks only got more intense over the time they were secluded in the House of Black.

Over the coming weeks of being held hostage in the dark mansion and of his own adolescent desire, Harry was full of heat for Sirius, until he was almost vibrating with the anger of not being able to do anything about it. But it was when his anger expanded with help from a catalyst in the form of jealousy, that Harry had felt the need to stretch out his fingers and brush Sirius's heart with his own.

Harry remembered wanting to grab his Godfather's broad shoulders with hungry hands, feel the new muscles under his palms, look into those blueberry eyes and reach up and press his lips to the soft wet warmth of the other's, until he was gasping and sweating in his own bed; his imagination the only arms to hold him when he woke up from pleasant, yet painful dreams. He would often wake up in the night and search the dark for the figure that was never there. Then one night, Harry woke from bliss involving Sirius among Indian cushions, Hemp incense and the strange taste of blueberries.

He had then gotten out of bed for a drink of water. He walked down the stairs past the heads of elves, past the portrait of Mrs. Black and into the kitchen to find Sirius speaking in low tones to Professor Lupin by the fire. The first thing Harry noticed was Lupin's hand on Sirius's shoulder, squeezing it as if massaging the muscles there, and Harry had felt such a sudden hot surge of hate, anger and jealousy that he had not even noticed that the two adults had ceased talking and were looking at him curiously.

"Harry," Lupin had asked quietly, "is something wrong?" Lupin had dropped his hand by then, but Harry was still too angered to speak. Instead he had glared at Lupin as ferocious malice roared in his ears. Lupin had touched _his_ Sirius, _his_ Godfather who had been chosen specifically for Harry by his own father.

"Harry." It was the abnormally soft voice from Sirius. "Harry, would you like to talk?"

Harry had snapped out of his glare, anger suddenly abated, and had looked at Sirius, then nodded. Lupin went to get a glass of water, and Sirius had opened his arms. Harry ran, feet padding on the stone floor, and then had let himself be enveloped by the warm and strong arms. "I - I had a nightmare," Harry had lied, before he breathed in the scent of Sirius: butterbeer, log-wood fire and the strange mix of carpet and the homely scent of dog.

"That's no good," Sirius had murmured as he ran fingers through Harry's hair. Harry remembered cherishing the feel of those long, strong fingers pressing themselves over sensitive skin. Sirius had continued in a low voice, tightening his grip around Harry's shoulders. "Is there anything I can do?"

Harry had so desperately wanted to say, _you could kiss me,_ or even _come back to bed with me,_ but thought it would scare Sirius away. His hands were around Sirius's waist, and he had slowly moved them up under the white shirt to touch the hot skin of his lower back. When Sirius had stiffened, Harry had pulled away and said without looking at his Godfather, "No, thank you. I'm fine," which Harry had thought was one of the biggest lies he had ever told.

Later, after declining the drink from Lupin and instead drinking from the upstairs bathroom, Harry had gone to bed. Frustration was taken out on his bedding and throat as he kicked, punched, cursed and growled at his pillows. He only stopped when Ron had woken up to tell Harry to go back to sleep.

Now Harry was riding through a sky that could tell so many stories, written in so much black ink that it had darkened, and there was no longer any space to write. With an inky blackness so deep, Harry wished he could speak the language of the night and read the tragedies the sky had seen in its old life. Little did Harry realize that his face was cold because of the frozen tears that littered his face, nor did he realize that the small group of teenagers were descending, as he was too busy thinking about what kind of story his and Sirius's would be. _A romance?_ Not likely, he thought, considering the 'romance' had ended when Harry had left for school. A part of Harry wished he had been expelled a year ago as he had feared he would be at that time.

"Oi, Harry!" Ron called over his shoulder, wind whipping red locks into his face. "We're almost home!"

Home. Something Harry had once called Grimmald Place, The Burrow, Hogwarts and Sirius's arms. The group descended, and landed on rough gravel. Harry took the time to look around while the others dismounted and proceeded with untying their load.

They had landed in what looked like an old Muggle School. The Courtyard they were standing in was surrounded by stone buildings of which had a lot of windows and large black double doors. There was a high up, long walkway that snaked around and was attached to all the buildings, so that you could walk to each building without having to cross the courtyard.

Harry peered through the moonlit darkness at his three companions, who were looking wind burnt and ruffled. "If you're done gaping at this Muggle atrocity, Potter," drawled Malfoy, grey eyes glinting in the moonlight, "maybe we can get out of this bloody cold and greet the others so I can go to bed." Malfoy turned on his heel and entered the nearest building with a bagged, bound and stupefied Dudley floating in his wake.

The three Gryffindors were left to smile tiredly at each other. Ron sighed and pulled out the dagger from its holster. Walking towards Harry, he dug the tip into his own left index finger, drawing blood. Neither boy flinched. "These buildings," began Ron, "are protected by an Ancient Blood Magic, making it unplottable and unapproachable to people not protected by it. Open your mouth," he requested, before pressing the bloodied finger between Harry's lips and smearing salty warm blood on his tongue. They looked into each others eyes - green and brown merging as naturally as grass and earth - and Harry thought it was rather erotic to have Ron's finger in his mouth.

Ron pulled away and healed his finger with a press of his wand. "Swallow." Harry did. "Holding some protected blood within you will allow you to enter and stay within the school for a short amount of time. The magic recognizes that you are my guest and that you mean no harm." Silently Ron entered the same building Malfoy had, trunk following magically, as Hermione took Harry's hand and walked him to a different building. The two entered and Harry blinked in the sudden torch light.

The large room was full of tables and chairs littered with parchment and stationery. Standing there in pajamas, dressing gowns and slippers was all of the members of Dumbledore's Army, save Ron, beaming at him.

"Hullo Harry," Fred Weasley said, grinning, as his sister Ginny ran up to give a bewildered Harry a hug. "'Bout time you got here."

"Yeah," yawned Fred's twin brother, George. "We've been waiting for ages. What took you so long?"

Luna Lovegood also gave Harry a hug, followed by Cho Chang. "Well he's here now, isn't he?" snapped Ernie Macmillan, "so you can all go to bed!"

Most occupants of the large room groaned and complained at the brisk order from the Hufflepuff. "Ron, Ernie and I have been temporary leaders while you haven't been here, Harry," explained Hermione quietly, but proudly. "We're sort of, um, your 'Court', you could say."

"Right," said Harry slowly, finally finding his voice. He was tired, hungry, cold, and on top of not feeling well, he was very confused. Only a couple of hours ago, he had been lying on his bed at his Aunt and Uncle's house, and now he was in an abandoned school surrounded by all his friends. "Can someone tell me what the Hell is going on?"

"Never mind about that now, Harry," said Luna softly, who was staring at Harry with unblinking eyes. "Are you feeling alright? Did zamparion red-tongues attack on the way here?"

"What?"

"Zamparion red-tongues are not real!" snapped Hermione, angry scowl in place, as others around the room started to chat excitedly between themselves.

"Yes they are," cried Luna. "There was a sighting the other day - "

"There was not!"

"There was too! They attack peoples' memories."

"They don't exist!"

Harry interrupted. "Why are we all here? Is it because of Voldemort?"

The reaction of everyone in the room was what Harry thought it would be. They stopped talking and fell completely silent, expressions turned serious and all attention was on Harry. After about a minute, someone at the back of the room took pity on him and broke the silence. "This is war, Potter," said Angelina Johnson darkly. "The Ministry of Magic is down, Diagon Alley is gone, Azkaban is useless and five Wizard families are dead, as well as several Muggle families…" She trailed off and shrugged. "We're an Army and we're here to train."

"That's right," said Ernie loudly. "We're Dumbledore's Army, and there is no doubt we will be the one's to bring You-Know-Who down!"

"As well as be the last army standing," muttered Zacharias Smith.

Harry took on an angry and determined look and started pacing the large room. "The _Daily Prophet_ said you were all kidnapped. What's the story?"

At this point Ron entered the room and walked down a flight of rickety stairs. "That was just a front so we wouldn't have to tell any adults where we were."

"Right," said Ginny proudly. "So in other words, we kidnapped ourselves!"

"Of course, I was against it," said Hermione quickly. "But it is good, because we don't have the Order of the Phoenix or anyone else to tell us what we're not allowed to do." She grinned at Harry, and Harry could not help but smile back.

"And we have lots of food," added Ron, "and beds and equipment and such."

"We have a lot of books and research material," said Anthony Goldstein seriously. "But every now and again we have to go on raids to get more."

"We've also designed a way to send and receive mail without exposing our location," added Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Not to mention we've got really cool uniforms!" piped up Lavender Brown.

"Designed by yours truly," Pavarti Patil said smiling broadly.

"And me!" said Lavender hotly, flicking blonde hair out of her eyes.

"Of course, they still need some minor adjustments -"

"True."

"- And we've designed some new additions -"

"Right."

"- And we're always upgrading -"

"Absolutely."

"- And we're constantly testing them and making sure they're practical -"

"Yet sexy!"

"- And we can't wait to dress you up!" Pavarti and Lavender exchanged glances and squealed with delight. "It'll be _ so_ much fun!"

Harry, now scandalized and rooted to the spot, looked around for an escape from his two classmates, who were often found curling their hair with their wands and who made homemade eye shadow in the middle of Potions class, when his eyes lit on someone unfamiliar - but not unpleasant.

A boy a few years older than Harry, tanned with dark hair and eyes, was half-sitting on one of the tables, legs crossed at the ankles. He was smiling, eyebrow raised, thick strands of hair licking at the smooth skin of face and neck. Harry swallowed and found his voice. "Sorry," he croaked, before clearing his throat and continuing. "But, who are you?"

The boy chuckled as Cho sidled up to Harry. "I forgot to introduce you!" she said happily, "he's a new addition to the D.A., Harry." No doubt a replacement for the Sneak who had gotten the D.A. in trouble last year, Harry thought dryly. Cho went to stand next to the boy. "Meet my brother: Quan Chang."

Quan got up and held out his hand, which Harry briefly shook. "Good to meet you, Harry," he said in a smooth, deep voice that made Harry shiver.

"Er - hi," Harry stuttered stupidly. Cho exchanged an enigmatic smile with her brother.

She giggled. "I told you he was cute, didn't I?" She laughed when both boys blushed and tried to look anywhere but each other. Harry was fiddling nervously with his glasses as the door Ron had come through opened and Draco Malfoy walked in and sauntered down the stairs. He was followed by seven others Harry recognized as the sixth form Slytherins. Like the sixth form Gryffindors, there were eight in total, all of whom were glaring and scowling at an equally repulsed Harry.

He could put names to the first three faces immediately, because he knew them to be the largest in his year, as well as the ones to follow Malfoy anywhere. Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Millicent Bulstrode; all with rather blank, yet still menacing, faces. The two smallest of the group Harry recognized as Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. They were currently both clad in very skimpy nightgowns, and Harry could never remember them ever wearing more than short skirts or dresses. Zabini's curly dark hair had been cut very short, and she was now grasping tightly to Parkinson's hand, whose long honey brown hair was in pigtails.

The last two Slytherins were standing close together and off to one side and Harry had to rack his brain to remember their names. They were both tall, blank faced and extremely skinny. The boy had chestnut brown hair, where a large amount of which fell into his face so it covered the right side of it, and Harry never remembered ever having seen Theodore Nott's right eye. Harry had the same feeling he got when in the same room as Mad-Eye Moody: as if he was being watched by an all-seeing eye that was constantly scrutinizing him through a deceiving veil. Nott's companion, Harry remembered, was the enigmatic Artemis Moon, who was always quiet and blank, with a pale face, long silver hair and haunting amber eyes.

Malfoy had taken off his cloak and robe. He now wore long leather gloves cut off at the fingers, reaching up past his elbows, a black feminine-like corset as well as a leather collar with a silver buckle much like Ron and Hermione's. He wore thick, tight black pants that hung low on his hips, and thick soled black boots. Silver strands of hair fell into his eyes, and Harry felt himself stare ungracefully before he caught himself. To think of Malfoy, of all people, in _that_ way was a very scary thought. 

He glared at Harry. "Oh so sorry to interrupt your happy little reunion -"

"You should be," snapped Quan from beside Harry.

Malfoy ignored him. "- But I think it best that the Blood Charm be preformed before the temporary effect wears off."

"We'll do it in the morning," said Hermione quickly. "It's not a good idea to do it so soon."

"Says you."

"Yes, says her," Ron spoke up angrily. "It's four in the morning, so let's go -"

"No," said Harry loudly, once again finding his voice and Gryffindor confidence. "No. I want to know what this Blood Charm is and what the hell it has to do with this nasty group of Slytherins."

Ron sighed tiredly and rubbed his eyes. "Can we _please_ talk in the morning? It's too long a story." At Harry's annoyed look Ron's shoulders slumped and he continued. "We cut a deal with them, that's all."

"That's right," said Pansy Parkinson hotly. Harry turned to her. "A temporary alliance." She scowled. "Welcome to Pegasus Lair."

Malfoy caught Harry's eye and smirked. "Yes, Potter, welcome home."

-TBC-


	3. Happy Hour

**Paper Flowers**  
By dented-sky 

Rated R  
past-Harry Sirius, Harry/Draco, Harry/MOC, Pansy/female!Blaise, Seamus/Justin, Harry/Hermione/Ron implied, Terry/Ginny, Moon/Nott implied, (eventual) Harry/Justin  
OotP spoilers, fantasy, action, adventure, cross-generation, underage sex, violence, language, romance, angst

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Lyrics and quotes belong to their respective owners. Lyrics within are by Enigma.

Author's Notes: I'm very sad because Catherine and Amber have left me =(; Amber in more ways than just betaing this fic, and I wish her all the best, but I'm still very sad. Anyways, I'm sorry this took so long to come out, but I had problems with my betas as you can tell. To make it a little easier for you, you can now join a Notify List to get email notification of new chapters:   
Thank you to my Betas Marley and Katie, and this chapter is dedicated to Catherine aka BooksOfMagic, who is a beautiful and wonderful person, and who has been sick lately, and I wish her well.

** Chapter Three – ** **Happy Hour**

In my field of paper flowers  
And candy clouds of lullaby  
I lie inside myself for hours  
- Imaginary (Evanescence)

I am here and somewhere else   
I have nothing more   
I am becoming crazy   
I am letting myself go  
- Mea Culpa (Enigma)

Every time I feel the need I envision you caressing me  
And go back in time to relive the splendor of you  
Touched you subtly as we were kissing goodbye  
How I'm missing you  
- The Roof (Mariah Carey)  


"Homosexual Lunchbox. What will you eat today?"  
- dented-sky and BooksOfMagic

"Yeah, the DA's good," said Ginny. "Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army, because that's the Ministry's worst fear."  
- Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K.Rowling

It turned out there was an underground area that had several rooms which the new residents of the abandoned Muggle school had turned into their Sleeping Chambers. Like Hogwarts, everyone slept in the room designated to their House, except now boys and girls slept in the same room. (Harry was disturbed to find Neville Longbottom was not the only snorer; Dennis Creevey made his fair share of noise.) Single metal beds and cotton bedding had been duplicated to allow sufficient pillows, sheets, mattresses, bed frames and blankets for everyone.

In the morning Hermione explained a little about Power Stones as they walked to the old Canteen for breakfast. The magical stones were illegal, because they held vast amounts of magical energy and were usually used as replacements for batteries used in Muggle electronics. They could also be used to amplify spells, such as the heating spell D.A. used to keep the underground chambers warm at night; even in summer, the nights were cold.

Eating habits, unlike the usual sleeping routine, were different from Hogwarts. The large dining room consisted of one large and long wooden table with chairs, and a long bench separated the dining room from the kitchen. On it lay their breakfast, as well as glasses of juice and pots of tea and coffee. As Harry entered, he noticed he was one of the last to arrive, and he was surprised to see that people from other Houses were mixing, even the Slytherins. People were chatting amicably.

"Argh, coffee," grumbled Seamus Finnigan as he shuffled in with Malfoy and Millicent Bulstrode. "Need… sweet, beautiful, _delightful_ coffee…"

"I do not know _how_ you can stand the horrid substance," drawled Malfoy as the three of them grabbed their breakfast.

"Yes, _honestly_," agreed Bulstrode, and the three of them headed to the table together. "I, of course, enjoy a good cup of English tea. It's a real lady's drink."

"Hence the reason why Malfoy likes it," laughed the Irish blonde. Malfoy glared half-heartedly and rolled his eyes. Harry was horrified to see the three sit down together and chat animatedly, and he stood frozen on the spot, gaping. Hermione poked him in the ribs.

"Are you going to eat, Harry?" she asked as she picked up a plate and a glass of pumpkin juice. She looked him up and down. "I think you should, especially since those relatives of yours feed you so little."

"They're not so bad anymore," Harry said absently. He turned to her. "How come our breakfast is set out like this? Do we have House Elves?"

Hermione scowled. "No," she growled, "worse." Harry blinked as Hermione walked away. Anything Hermione considered worse than misused House Elves must be pretty bad. He wondered whether this plan to seclude and protect the new self-taught Army was such a good idea if it involved too many sacrifices. But then he remembered what he would be doing if he was not here - at the Dursleys' - and he thought that being here was worth almost any sacrifice, especially for a war that could mean the end of all things good and right in the world. A shadow had been hanging over the Earth for decades, and now it had fallen; safety, love and all things made to live for, were submerged in thick, almost impenetrable darkness like the milk of Satan's lover; until all that was left was a small, white butterfly of hope flittering and guiding the blind to an almost-freedom.

Harry sat at the table and ate his breakfast, all thoughts on war, while the conversation around him was of anything but; a sign that meals were a time-out from 'work' in every sense: mind, body… heart. Harry had a sudden thought that he would like to talk to Sirius. He dropped his fork at his loss of appetite, and reminded himself that he should write a paper flower when he got the chance.

Malfoy laughed loudly at something and Harry snapped his head up, suddenly locking eyes with Quan Chang, who smiled shyly. Harry briefly forgot about Sirius and smiled back, before they both flushed and looked away.

After breakfast, Harry had got changed in to his Muggle clothes, ("The uniforms are only for battle!" Pavarti had said), before happily accepting Terry Boot's invitation of a tour of the school.

"This building we're going to," Terry Boot explained as they headed down the cement corridor, "is where we hold the Muggles." Terry had short light brown hair, light blue eyes, and when he smiled two dimples appeared on his cheeks. He was taller than Harry, (most people were), and he had the strange habit of always having his hands in his pockets. "The Ward Squad," he continued, "found the Ancient Blood Charm, real name _ Haemato Transferin_, and cast it on this particular building, so that all residents connected to the Charm had a relative Written to them, and that relative is protected."

He paused and looked at Harry, serious expression slotted on his face. "That is why we kidnapped your cousin, as he is your Blood Charm relative that we Wrote to you. We could have taken your aunt but we know she is Written to you in your old home, and it's better that you keep that place as a safe haven, just in case of emergency." Boot looked away. "Of course, it took a bit of work, Writing one blood relative to four Weasley's, but we managed."

"I see," said Harry slowly. "Who's the Ward Squad?"

They entered the building. "It's okay," Boot assured Harry quickly. "We can talk freely here; sound charms and such have been put up." They were heading down a corridor that had many doors to old classrooms, and when Harry looked through the small windows, he could see Muggles sitting around reading, sleeping or playing card games, though they looked rather unhappy. "The Ward Squad," Boot answered, "is just one of those names we've made for groups within Dumbledore's Army and the Dragon League. The Ward Squad researches and casts all the Wards and Protection Charms for Pegasus Lair." Boot grinned, allowing his dimples to show happily from his handsome face. "The Ward Squad is made up of all Ravenclaws, of course."

"What's the Dragon League?"

Boot frowned and they both stopped walking. He stared at Harry for a moment, scrutinizing him as if waiting for Harry to take back the question. "The eight Slytherins…" Boot said slowly. "The Death Eaters -"

"What!" Boot was taken aback be Harry's loud outburst, but Harry did not care; he carried on regardless. "What do you mean by '_Death Eaters_'? Wait…" Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to push down the angry ghost of a lion threatening to push up, burn his chest with flame and rip at the back of his eyes with angry claws. "You mean to tell me, that you let a group of Death Eaters into our only safe haven?"

Harry was shouting and Boot looked frightened. "They're not really Death Eaters -"

"Not _really_ Death Eaters? What d'you mean, 'not really Death Eaters'?"

"It's complicated!"

"I bet it is!"

"And it's kind of important!"

"It better bloody be!"

"Look," Boot shouted. He was red faced and he looked both scared and angry. "They're spies!"

"For Voldemort!" Harry ignored Boot's flinch.

"No, of course not! Malfoy said -"

"Malfoy says a lot of things," Harry shouted, giving Boot a hard shove. He stumbled, but Harry was past caring. "It doesn't mean they're true!"

"Malfoy said he needed to talk -"

"_A Death Eater killed Sirius!_"

"- To you alone!"

"SHE KILLED HIM!" Harry burst out, ignoring Boot, politeness and the strange constricting of his chest. "SHE KILLED SIRIUS AND NOW HE'S DEAD!" Boot fell silent and Harry glared, and he was surprised to realize there were many tears on his own face. "She killed him," he shouted, "So… so fuck Bellatrix Lestrange, fuck Malfoy, fuck this Army and fuck _you!_"

They were both breathing fast and hard, and a few minutes went by before anyone spoke.

Boot peered down at Harry with sad blue eyes. "I think," he said softly, "you should take this up with Malfoy and get angry at him instead of me." He waited a minute, and when Harry did not apologize and just continued to glare, he sighed. "Come on Potter, there's someone you need to see."

Anger slightly abated, Harry followed Boot down the corridor once more.

"Does everyone know?" Harry asked quietly after a while.

"Know what?"

"That the members of the Dragon League are Death Eaters?"

"Yeah," Boot smiled. "The Weasley brothers had fifty kinds of fits when they found out. But," Boot took on a serious look. "I meant what I said before. They may have the Dark Mark, but they're not Death Eaters; not really."

Harry did not respond. He knew that he would confront Malfoy later and get to the bottom of this.

They stopped at the last door, and Harry peered through the small window. He raised his eyebrows. "It's Dudley." The room was quite big and full of gym equipment. Dudley was punching a punching bag, while three others, just as large as Dudley, if not larger, were doing weights.

"We've separated the Muggles by size, weight and age," Terry Boot explained casually as if he was talking about farming cattle. "We haven't bothered sorting sex though… not enough rooms." He shrugged. "For these four we're doing small experiments -"

"You do realize," Harry interrupted loudly; Harry was starting to get annoyed at Boot again, and this strange situation the D.A. and D.L. had made for themselves, "that these are _people_ we are shutting in small rooms and performing strange magics on?"

"I know that," said Boot slightly defensively, "But we have to make sacrifices, being the War and all."

"And a part of this War is giving Muggles protection!" Harry added angrily.

"I _know_ that," Boot said again. "I know what you're feeling; after all, I'm Muggle-born. But we could use their assistance."

"Yeah, the assistance they didn't volunteer for!" Harry peered at Boot curiously and shook his head in disbelief. He could not quite fathom what he was hearing. "Kidnapping innocent Muggles, casting magic and performing experiments on them, then shutting them away like animals…" Harry shook his head again. "We're no better than Death Eaters!"

Boot narrowed his eyes. "We are _ nothing_ like them," Boot growled. "Nothing!"

"I beg to differ."

They glared at each other for a long moment, before Boot said quietly, "I thought you'd be happy. We did this all for you."

"No you didn't," Harry said softly, but deadly. "You did it for the War."

"And for you," Boot said, still quiet. "Everyone has so much faith in you."

Harry did not say anything. In truth, he did not know how to respond. He wanted to say '_Well they shouldn't_,' but he could not find it in himself. The horrible, suffocated feeling he got whenever he remembered that he was a Marked man; more Marked than a Death Eater, and with more responsibility on his head than the Minister of Magic. The emotion climbed his chest and squeezed his throat like a spiteful parasite.

Suddenly Harry understood what Boot meant: the D.A. said they were making sacrifices for the War and for Harry, but really, the two were the same thing.

This War was Harry's.

No matter what happened, the War would eventually turn itself into Harry's inevitable face-off with Voldemort, and there was no avoiding much needed sacrifice.

Harry gave a small nod and Boot took that as the cue to continue with his factual explanations. "The larger group of Muggles we have gathered act as cooks." So that explained why Hermione was upset about the arrangement. "The Dragon League mass-brewed a Purity Potion, which is a form of Veritaserum, except that you can control what you say and do, you just can't lie or do any wrong." He paused and looked at Harry cautiously. "We, er… give it to the Muggles, so when they cook our food, they can't poison us or anything."

Boot paused again, and Harry nodded for him to continue once more, not trusting himself to speak.

"The members of the Dragon League take it themselves at the Mass Meetings, so they have control over _how_ much they want to disclose with us, but they can't lie."

Harry was sceptical. "But the D.L. made it themselves. What if the potion was faked and they've been lying all this time?"

But Boot was shaking his head. "Nah, the Ward Squad checked and triple checked it, and we look after it, too." He gave Harry a reassuring look. "The D.L. can be trusted, Harry."

Harry was still unconvinced, but nodded again, feeling slightly stupid nodding all the time and not having much to say.

"Anyway, these four in this room," Boot went on, pointing to the room with his head, "are being trained in case we want to use them for battle." He smiled. "Quan suggested it. They can't do magic, but they are still good at combat. We're at least going to use them in our own combat training." Boot suddenly grinned and Harry blinked out of his blank stare. "You like him, don't you?"

"Who?"

"Quan. He definitely likes you, or so they say."

Harry blinked again stupidly. "What?"

Boot laughed. "Don't be thick! His is rather fit, though I wouldn't really know; I don't swing that way or anything." He shrugged. "So do you like him or not?"

Harry blushed. "Er- I dunno."

"Ah well, at least you have the option. Not that you don't have others… maybe Justin or Malfoy?"

"_Malfoy?_" Harry spluttered. _ What the hell..?_ "I don't like Malfoy!" Harry said hastily. "He's… well he's… he's _Malfoy!_"

Boot was laughing. "Yeah, that's his name! It's just that Padma thinks he's really fit, and she told me there was a rumour going around school last year that he fancied you… until you got his father in Azkaban, that is."

Harry was staring at Boot wide-eyed. "Erk," was the only response he could gurgle out.

"Yeah," Boot continued wistfully, as if Harry had just said something insightful. "I suppose he is rather pretty, in a very girly way. Anyway," he sighed, "I think Quan may be your best bet, even though you did his sister only last year; but as long as she doesn't mind -"

"Look," said Harry, finding his voice. "Is that all you wanted to show me? Because I'm supposed to meet Dean and Hermione before lunch."

"Oh yeah, sorry." They began walking back and Boot told Harry the various groups formed with the D.L. and D.A. Pavarti, Padma, Lavender, Blaise Zabini and Parkinson made up the Uniform United, who used Textile Charms to design and make the uniforms. The Nexus Sect consisted of all the Muggle-borns who managed the sending and receiving of mail. Quan and Cho Chang, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott called themselves the Crossfire Consortium, and they taught proper Wizard Duelling and Combat, as well as went on raids for weapons every now and again. Fred and George called themselves the Dynamic Duo, and they organized the 'fun'; they said they had to make sure everyone was happy in their confinement. The only other 'groups' were the Ward Squad and Potter's Court, which Harry already knew the functions of. Everyone had to clean out rooms, occasionally go on raids, teach each other skills and take turns going on Muggle checks and supervising meal preparations.

Harry met Hermione and Dean in the courtyard. "Welcome, Harry, to the Mail Tour!" Hermione said as if she were a flight attendant. Dean rolled his eyes. All three started walking across the overgrown field of grass near the school, which Harry guessed used to be the school's oval. "The mail is done by Muggle-borns," Hermione explained, "because we have to travel a little ways off to collect it, and the Ministry is still a bit racist." She scowled. "They tend to search for kidnapped Purebloods first."

"I'm sure Dumbledore is searching for us," said Dean quietly, "not that we've really been kidnapped."

"That's beside the point," Hermione snapped. "The Ministry would have found us all now if they had gotten their act together, but all they care about is getting their paychecks in order before they take any real action."

Dean sighed sadly and looked at Harry. "I'm afraid it's true. But, it just means we have a little more time and we can move around a bit more than we could if the Ministry hadn't collapsed." They stopped walking. "Well, this is it: the Starting Point." They had arrived at a clump of trees, in which one tree had an old sneaker shoe tied to a branch by its shoelaces. "It's a Portkey. Before most of us learnt to Apparate, we had to use it."

Harry looked at Dean in surprise. "Most of you have learnt to Apparate?"

Dean grinned. "We had three weeks without you, so we had lots to learn, but plenty of time."

"Anyway," Hermione interrupted, "the Portkey takes us to a special site where we have performed a Ritual. It involves burning a strand of hair from the person whose mail you wish to receive and the owls smell the magical scent of that person on the smoke. We also have a small owl house there for owls waiting for replies, need food or a place to stay the night. So," she concluded, "I'm going to need some of your hair."

Harry let her perform a spell which made the tip of her wand as sharp as a razor, and she carefully cut a small strand of black hair from his temple. Changing her wand back to normal and clutching Harry's detached hair with delicate fingers, she smiled warmly at Harry before she and Dean Disapparated together with one loud _crack_. Harry was left alone in the clearing.

He walked back silently and unhappily. He hated being alone, because being alone meant that his mind would wander back to Sirius, and it only made him depressed. He constantly wished Sirius was around to hold him, kiss him, whisper reassurances to him in the dark, and kiss his ear sweetly.

And to move and hold each other tightly under the sheets, as if trying to squeeze the darkness and hated world away.

Harry entered the first building he came to after he crossed the oval, and went to the bathroom. He entered the last stall and leaned against the door. Sirius would not have let this happen, Sirius would not have let Harry get sad, or let people take over his life like this. Sirius also would not have let people set Harry up with other boys, or suggest he like someone other than Sirius, and Harry did not want anyone but Sirius anyway.

Harry hugged himself as his mind sifted through memory after memory. Sirius in the kitchen wearing Mrs. Weasley's apron, and Harry laughing; Sirius boosting Harry up and putting him on Buckbeak's back and laughing when the hippogriff squawked playfully; Sirius pushing away and running out of the room when Harry kissed him for the first time; Sirius dragging Harry into the dark pantry, and pulling away from each others kisses just as Ron opened the doors; Sirius's tongue on Harry's neck… then Sirius shirtless, laying asleep on Harry's bed, his long black hair draped on the pillow and on his shoulders…

…then that naked chest under Harry's fingers, Harry's cheek, Harry's mouth…

Harry whimpered, and sniffled, then kicked the toilet bowl in frustration. _Fuck you_, he shouted at himself mentally. _Fuck you for getting…_ Harry felt heat in his lower regions and a familiar stirring. 

Harry being gathered up in Sirius's larger muscled arms; Harry crawling into Sirius's bed and kissing him softly in the night; Harry kissing and licking Sirius's neck and hearing the low rumbling of moans; Harry teasing the sensitive flesh of Sirius's chest and licking at the sweet skin of a nipple; Harry hearing his own cries when Sirius older hands massaged and brushed over areas of Harry's skin that Harry did not know could _ feel so good_.

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had a hand down his trousers and he was bucking into his fist, and panting against the old wood of the stall wall.

Harry had loved the pressure of Sirius' weight on top of him, and had liked the way the heels of his feet would press in to the older man's smooth lower back. He loved it when they rubbed together, but Sirius had never entered him. Not until that night when Harry had asked him to…

He had loved having a mouth on his flesh, and the earthly taste of Sirius, large and moving in his own mouth, and those blueberry eyes glazed over with lust, staring down at him.

Now he felt the heat build up tightly before he came in his hand, and he gasped loudly to the ceiling. He recovered from his orgasm a few second later, then cleaned himself up with toilet paper and flushed it down the toilet, just as the bathroom door swung open and someone came in. 

Harry froze, and then quickly checked himself to see if he was all right to be seen without embarrassment.

He opened the stall door and walked out; passing his visitor who was leaning against the wall, smirking, and Harry washed his hands in the basin. 

He looked at his reflection in the mirror; dark green eyes slightly obscured by wavy strands of hair, small dark freckles were sprinkled across his cheeks. He was flushed at the knowledge of what he had been doing. The boys caught each others' eyes in the mirror. "What d'you want, Malfoy?"

Malfoy looked away and examined his nails as Harry dried his hands on his shirt. "I've been looking everywhere for you," he drawled.

"I'm really flattered."

Malfoy ignored his sarcasm. "You should be. We're missing lunch as we speak."

"So why don't you _go_ then?" Harry snapped, turning to the other boy. "I don't know why you're here in the first place."

The Slytherin looked Harry in the eye and his smirk widened. "Oh, yes you do. With everyone at lunch, there'll be no distractions." Malfoy glanced away nonchalantly and looked at their surroundings. The bathroom was old, the walls were dirty and the wood on the stalls was chipped. Malfoy sneered, and Harry had a sudden thought that Malfoy had a nice mouth and should not waste it on sneering.

Harry crossed his arms and glared at the silver haired boy. It was now or never. "So, why are you a Death Eater?"

Malfoy glanced back at Harry and blinked at him as if only noticing him for the first time. "Because I want to be."

Alright, so he's going to be difficult. "Then why are you here? Are you a spy for Dumbledore or something?"

The other boy let out a bark of laughter. "Don't be stupid, I would do nothing, and I mean _nothing_," he looked at Harry meaningfully, and Harry noticed that Malfoy's eyes were always healthy and would sparkle with silver, "for that _wanker_ Dumbledore."

Harry tensed. "Don't you dare talk that way about-" but then he stopped. He realized then that he really did not care for Dumbledore all that much. The Headmaster who Harry had loved as a grandfather these past few years just did not hold Harry's respect like he used to. Harry was here, with his friends, preparing for war, and Dumbledore was nowhere, and that fact Harry took to heart.

Malfoy had an eyebrow raised and he looked very amused. "This is war," he stated simply, "and in war, one must have allies."

Harry scrutinized the other boy, narrowing his eyes. "So what are you saying? You're on both sides?"

"For now," Malfoy grinned evilly, his teeth straight and pearly white.

Harry was shocked. "But that makes no sense!"

Malfoy pushed himself from the wall and started to pace the room in a bored fashion. "I think," he drawled, "It makes perfect sense."

"How?"

"Slytherins love power above all else," Malfoy said softly.

Suddenly Harry understood. He stood up straighter and stared at Malfoy who was sauntering around the room in a disinterested way as if he was bored with the world and their current topic of conversation. Harry could not help but notice the grace in Malfoy's slender frame as he moved smoothly around the small room. "You mean to tell me," Harry said slowly, "that you are…" He trailed off, but both boys were thinking the same thing: _Your own power…_

"Yes," said Malfoy, softer still.

So that was how it was. Malfoy was a Death Eater, yet he was a spy, but not for the D.A. or for anyone else, but for himself. He was climbing a ladder built on trust of other powers, and exploiting those powers to gain an upper hand later on in the War. It was all part of a plan, as that is what Malfoy would do, but it just seemed so _Slytherin…_ Harry found himself in awe. "That is so…"

Malfoy suddenly spun around and grinned at Harry. "It's great, isn't it?" he said happily. "Not even Father could think of this, and Father thought joining the Dark Lord was such a great feat, but I'm going further, and bigger than anyone ever expects from me." He bit his lip, his grin grew wider, and Harry thought he looked a bit manic. "He'll be beyond proud," he said breathlessly, "and one day, I'll have him on his knees, kissing _my_ robes, and doing _my_ bidding." He stopped, and sank back into bored indifference. "Of course," he drawled, "that won't be for a while, and I'll have to wait for you to destroy each other first. If only one is gone," he shrugged elegantly, "I'll have to kill the other, but I'll know their weaknesses by then."

Harry knew he was talking about Voldemort and himself, and Harry felt a cruel smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Malfoy did not know the prophecy, which stated that only Harry and Voldemort could only kill each other, therefore Malfoy would not have the chance to be a complete ruler of anything.

Harry had always known that Malfoy would forever be one step behind.

"I can't believe we're letting you stay with us," Harry said finally.

Malfoy shrugged again and flicked a strand of hair out of his eyes. "You need us," he said, talking of the Dragon League. "We have information and we are constantly gaining more."

Harry sighed tiredly and looked away, instead focusing on Malfoy's left hand, which was playing with the pocket of his grey trousers. Harry noticed Malfoy's fingers were very long, almost abnormally long, but not awkwardly so; it just added to his sexiness. "You need us too."

Malfoy did not comment or say anything more on the subject, instead he whined, "I'm _hungry_."

Harry found the most disturbing thing about his first day at Pegasus Lair was walking to the Canteen in companionable silence with Draco Malfoy. They never said anything to each other, never even _ looked_ at each other, but it was walking side by side down the long corridors that scared Harry somewhat. 

Lunch was a late meal due to everyone sleeping in that day after Harry's early morning arrival. Before lunch was usually lessons, so after lunch was discussion, research and practice time, where people used empty classrooms to practice magic; people practicing combat used the building with no rooms on the side of the oval, and everyone who was researching used the large building Harry had first come to when he arrived that morning. Harry and his Court sat at one of the tables; its surface littered with parchment.

"Tomorrow, Harry," said Hermione as Ernie flicked through a report on Guard Spells, "you'll need to start your Occlumency practice again."

Ron pressed a finger on the sentence he was reading in one of the large ancient looking books. "He can't, Hermione, he has to learn to Apparate first."

"Ron," she began, annoyed. "This is _ important_."

Ernie looked up from the parchment he had been reading. "Actually, he may not have time. The Crossfire Consortium wants to finish Stage Three so they can move on. They say we haven't got enough time to dawdle around."

"Stuff the Crossfire Consortium," said Ron. "Harry needs to catch up on his magic."

"And," said Hermione loudly, squaring her shoulders, "_occlumency is most important_. Anyway, we're not sure how long the Dragon League is going to be here."

"There is also the Guard Spells," said Ernie, waving the parchment he was reading in their faces, "we said we'd perfect them all by tomorrow."

Harry spoke up. "Listen, why don't we just work really hard tomorrow and we'll try to get it all done?"

All three of his advisors looked at him for a moment, before Hermione said, "We could, but we need an order, in case the last thing on our list cannot be done by tomorrow."

"Yeah, and Apparation can't wait," Ron said hotly.

Hermione let out a loud frustrated growl just as Cho stepped up to their table to give Ernie that day's research report, then Harry and his Court went on to discuss Radar Jinxes.

Dinner was a happy affair, and Harry loved being with all his joyous friends after seeing the strain of stress littering their expressions only an hour ago.

Afterwards was the Mass Meeting, where Dumbledore's Army would sit at tables and the Dragon League would stand in front of them to give their report. Tonight, however, only Malfoy stood. Anthony Goldstein and Michael Corner were in charge of administering the Purity Potion, and Malfoy took it obediently. The two Ravenclaws sat down, and Malfoy began.

"As you know," Malfoy drawled, his hands clasped behind his back, "my father summoned me last night." He paused, turned to the Weasley twins and smirked.

"This can't be good," Ron whispered in Harry's ear. "He looks too pleased with himself."

"We mostly discussed things that are no concern of yours," Malfoy continued, "but I did, however, find out about a new addition to the Dark Lord's high ranks." There was a murmur amongst the D.A.; the D.L. looked unsurprised. Malfoy's smug smirk widened and he shot another look at the Weasley twins. "Would you like to know who it was?"

"Get on with it, Malfoy," snapped Ernie.

"Alright," he paused for dramatic effect, and then said, "Some nit-wit called Percival Weasley."

The reaction was instant. There were loud gasps from around the room; Ginny gave a loud cry and clutched Dean tightly; Ron, Fred and George shot up in their seats and started cursing randomly.

"What the fuck-?"

"That bastard -"

"I knew it!"

"Fuck him."

Then Ron gave a large yell and kicked the table, just as Fred punched the wall.

"Settle down," said Ernie. The Weasleys calmed slightly, sitting back down, but they were still red faced and very angry. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. Harry had always been suspicious of Percy's ambition, and he had never liked the guy, anyway.

Meanwhile, Malfoy's smirk had disappeared, and he and Theodore Nott were looking at each other as if having a silent conversation. Ernie clasped his hands together. "Continue," he commanded.

Malfoy looked back at the D.A., all humour gone from his face. He took a deep breath. "There is just one other thing we will probably get more information on tomorrow night."

Ernie raised his eyebrows inquiringly. "Yes?"

"The Dark Lord," said Malfoy, squaring his shoulders, "is suspicious of your supposed kidnappings, and he wishes to find you." Malfoy shrugged. "He found out Potter was missing shortly after the Ministry did."

Harry blinked. "They know I'm gone?"

Malfoy turned to Harry, looking slightly amused. "Of course they do, Potter, the Ministry were keeping a constant eye on you."

Oh, thought Harry. _Of course they were._

The meeting was adjourned, and Harry went to his dormitory and wrote another paper flower to Sirius.

Are you angry I didn't tell Lupin? Harry wrote. _I know you loved him. But I think it's important we keep the Army's secrets to ourselves. I know you would think it great, like it's something my father would do._

Harry walked out into the courtyard, and watched the stars with Ron and Hermione for a long time. After, they went back and sat at their usual table with Ernie, and Harry researched some more hexes and wrote them down, until he was yawning and Hermione was pulling on his sleeve.

When he glanced back at her, she was grinning. "What is it?" he asked, puzzled.

"The best time of the day, Harry," she giggled as she showed him her watch. It was five minutes to ten. When he looked around, he was startled to find that they were the only two people in the large room.

"What's going on?" he grumbled as she pulled at his shirt and dragged him up the stairs.

"Happy Hour!" she laughed. "But we have to get you changed."

They got to their dormitory and Hermione rummaged through his trunk and pulled out a white shirt and a pair of jeans. She pouted. "Haven't you got any _tight_ jeans?"

Harry gaped at her. Boys his age _did not_ wear tight jeans like some girl. "No, of course not!"

After they got changed, she pulled her hands through his hair to give it that annoying messy look. She said, "You look absolutely smashing, Harry."

"Good for me," Harry retorted sarcastically. They walked to another building, holding hands, and Hermione was half-skipping the way there.

They arrived at double doors guarded by the Weasley twins. "'Bout time you two got here," said George through a grin.

"Yeah," agreed his twin. Beyond the doors, Harry could hear the loud base of music thumping. He thought Fred and George looked like a couple of bouncers at the front of a Night Club. "Here, Harry, have some chocolate."

Harry eyed the offered chocolate wearily before he broke off a piece and put it in his mouth. He frowned. "Dark chocolate?"

"Yeah," Hermione answered, breaking off her own piece. "Gives Wizards that extra kick; but don't eat too much of it." The four of them entered the dark room and Harry was instantly thrown into the crowd of moving bodies and loud music.

People were sweating, dancing and moving enthusiastically to the music that Harry recognized as that new-age techno, and Harry stood frozen, not quite knowing what to do. He looked up to see fireflies dancing close to the ceiling, and it was the only light penetrating the dark. The people moved like waves of strong ocean around him, and the base of the music was a pulse of its own, as if the room was alive.

Je ne dors plus, the music sang. _The time has come._

Je te desire… Someone grabbed Harry's arm. _The time has come. _He found himself pressed up to a sweaty, moving, _shirtless_, body. Harry yelped, but his cry was taken away with the loud music.

"Hey Harry!" Seamus shouted in his ear, "dance!" _ Prends moi._ Seamus pushed himself forward. _Je suis a toi_. Then he grabbed Harry's hips and tried to move him to the music. _Mea culpa_. Harry yelped again at the close contact. 

Harry felt someone else press himself to his back, and Justin's voice was in his ear, "Having fun, Harry?" _Je veux aller au bout de me fantasmes_. He felt Justin touch his waist with both hands, then move them up to his chest. _Je sais que c'est interdit… Je suis folle. Je m'abandonne._

Harry found himself sandwiched between Justin and Seamus, and they were both moving in a sensual dance. Then to his own horror, he found himself moving with them. _Mea Culpa._

Dancing between two sweaty boys, moving hips together, was arousing, and Harry felt himself getting right into it. He felt Justin pull his own shirt off, and now two shirtless torsos were pressed against Harry. Seamus kissed his neck, and Harry fell into the sensation of tongue and lips on the sensitive area. He grabbed Seamus' hair.

When Seamus pulled away, it was to lean over and kiss Justin over Harry's shoulder. Harry would have been surprised, was he in the mood to feel surprised. _Je suis la et ailleurs_.

Harry decided to pull away from them, _Je n'ai plus rien,_ and found himself in a group of dancing Ravenclaws. He danced next to Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot. _Je deviens folle…_ _Je m'abandonne._ He laughed when Ginny came up wearing a T-shirt that said the words 'HOMOSEXUAL LUNCHBOX' on the front, and grabbed Terry into a passionate kiss. _Mea Culpa._ The group laughed, and Harry found himself dancing with Luna. 

For a while, Harry felt himself go crazy. Maybe it was the chocolate, or maybe he was high on natural happiness, but he just felt the only thing he needed to do was dance with the others.

Then he bumped into someone else, turned around, and came face to face with Quan Chang. There was a short interlude in the song. _Je ne dors plus._

Neither boy was dancing. They stared at each other, and Quan had a sparkling lustfulness in his eyes, _Je te desire, _as he leant his face down to Harry's.

Harry's eyes widened when he realized what Quan was about to do, _Prends moi_, and Harry, hesitating slightly, raised a hand to press on Quan's chest, _Je suis a toi_, not to push him away, but just to touch the other boy, because he thought that they needed to be touching for this.

He leaned his head up and closed his eyes just as the interlude stopped and the fast pacing of the song started again. After a second, when Quan had not kissed him, Harry opened his eyes.

Quan was no longer facing Harry but glaring at Malfoy who was glaring back. They were almost nose-to-nose and shouting things at each other that Harry could not hear over the music. _Je suis la et ailleurs..._ They looked as if they were going to punch each other; Harry gaped, _Je veux tout, _and Malfoy shoved Quan hard in the chest. _ Quand tu veux._

Someone grabbed Harry from behind and dragged him away from the scene, _Comme tu veux_, just as Crabbe came between the two fighting boys and Goyle pulled Malfoy away to a different part of the dance floor. _Mea Culpa._

The song was ending and Harry turned to see Hermione and Ron grinning at him.

He suddenly forgot all about Quan and Malfoy, and Harry grinned and started dancing with his two best friends in a tight circle, arms around each other's shoulders and waists.

It was one of the best nights of his life.

-TBC-

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	4. Enter the Dragon

**Paper Flowers**  
By dented-sky 

Rated R  
past-Harry Sirius, Harry/Draco, Harry/MOC, Pansy/female!Blaise, Seamus/Justin, Harry/Hermione/Ron implied, Terry/Ginny, Moon/Nott implied, (eventual) Harry/Justin  
OotP spoilers, fantasy, action, adventure, cross-generation, underage sex, violence, language, romance, angst

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Lyrics and quotes belong to their respective owners. Lyrics within are by Tokyo Ghetto Pussy.

Author's Notes: Thank you to my Betas Katie and Marley, this chapter is dedicated to Katie because she is just so awesome and has helped me through this, and I will always love out little slash discussions. To you, babe!

Chapter Four - Enter the Dragon

In my field of paper flowers  
And candy clouds of lullaby  
I lie inside myself for hours  
- Imaginary (Evanescence)

Tired of holding back. I'm about to let the dragon attack  
So get out of my way it's a new millennium it's a brand new day  
I know you don't really want to unleash the dragon  
- Unleash the Dragon (Sisqo)

It's been too long and I'm lost without you  
What am I going to do, said I've been needing you  
Is your heart still mine, I want to cry sometimes  
Can you hear me calling for you  
- Miss You (Aaliyah)

I kiss your lips and close my eyes  
Take you away to paradise  
Make everybody see that I love you and you love me  
- I Kiss You Lips… (Tokyo Ghetto Pussy)

Quan Chang tried to kiss me, Harry wrote in the early morning, sitting up in bed, with only the light from his wand allowing him to see. _Are you mad? Are you upset?_

Do you care? Or are you happy where you are, laughing at me?

Harry signed off, folded the small piece of paper into a flower and put it away. He still stayed sitting, though.

He would not have minded one bit if Quan had kissed him. It would have just added to the overall excitement of the two hours spent in a hot, loud room. Harry smiled in the darkness at the thought. Quan kissing him, maybe like Seamus had, only in a more _romantic_ way, rather than the clumsy, playful embraces of thin, younger boys.

Harry sighed, and gathered the blankets closer around himself. He could not sleep; the music was still singing happily within him, and there was a tune still thrumming in his head that he could not get rid of, like the buzz of the fireflies that had hung around the unsupervised children in their own drunken daze. Just when he was about to cast _nox_ and eliminate the light, he heard a small tapping.

He got up quickly, headed over to the door and opened it. Leaning against the doorframe in his neat dark robes, was Malfoy. He smirked, and Harry sensed that he had seen this particular scene before.

Harry groaned tiredly and Malfoy whispered, "Come outside for a bit."

Ten minutes later, Harry and Malfoy were walking across the oval silently in the cool morning air. Harry realized he was being led to the dark, rusted shed near the side of the oval. They stopped and Malfoy pushed back his cloak and pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his robe pocket. He pulled a cigarette out for himself and then, surprisingly, offered one to Harry.

"No, thank you," Harry murmured distractedly. The moonlight was playing with the silver in Malfoy's hair and dancing to silent music on his sharp features. "And we're here _because_…?"

Malfoy turned; his silver eyes gave off an almost unnatural glow in the darkness. "I'm waiting, but I don't know what _ you're_ doing here, Potter."

Harry scowled and turned to go, but Malfoy grabbed his arm.

"There is something you need to see, that the others forgot to show you." Then Malfoy took a drag of his cigarette, and walked over to the shed. Harry followed, and they entered.

"_Lumos_," Harry whispered, and then he gasped at the sight.

Within the shed, leaning against the walls, were three thestrals. "They're tame," Malfoy muttered, as Harry crept closer to the beautiful dragon-horses, light from his wand letting their scales shimmer. "They like to sleep in here at night, for some reason," he drawled. "Probably warmer; less wind."

Harry abruptly turned around to face the other, suddenly realizing something. "You can see them!"

Malfoy shrugged arrogantly, and then walked past Harry towards the right hand corner. "There is another theory why they would like this poor excuse for a shed," he said.

After a few seconds of staring at Malfoy's back in astonishment, Harry walked over to stand by him, and then he peered down at what Malfoy was looking at.

On top a mound of dirt, shoved in the corner, was a glowing aqua stone, seven inches in diameter, about as big as a bludger, although not as round, and flatter. The light it shed lit up the dirt around it, and the boys' faces. Harry swallowed, and then breathed the words, "What is it?"

"A power stone," Malfoy murmured. "It's a live one, too."

Harry glanced at Malfoy's pointed profile. "What does that mean?" he asked, puzzled.

Malfoy moved his head towards Harry and they stared into each other's tired eyes. "They say," he said softly, "that most power stones hold a soul inside; it's rare to find a soulless one, but not impossible. And they also say that the soul can talk and some magical creatures, such as thestrals, can understand it." They looked away; Malfoy took another drag of his cigarette, and for a moment Harry watched the smoke rise. 

A while passed, and Harry thought he should say something; being alone in a shed in the middle of the night with only Malfoy for company felt eerie and detached, like he was an unbalanced figure in a painting. Just when he was about to open his mouth to speak, Malfoy murmured to himself, "This whole place is full of stones; I wonder if they have something to do with the Muggles leaving…"

"Why doesn't the Ministry like them?" said Harry finally, asking of the power stones.

"Not enough knowledge," said Malfoy, breathing smoke on Harry. "Nobody knows all the properties. That and most people fear living things that don't at least _look_ alive."

Harry stared wonderingly at the glowing orb in front of him. To think, he could be looking at something conscious. Maybe it was watching him, or trying to talk to him, or maybe it could read his mind. Harry got that same feeling he had gotten with Tom Riddle's diary when Tom had talked back to him that first time: excitement and curiousity, with an underlining of fear. He could not rip his eyes away from the stone and its observant silence. _The Ministry was right to fear power stones_, he thought. A magic artefact like that was probably Dark.

Suddenly Malfoy turned and walked away, out the shed. Harry followed, finding the Slytherin leaning against the outer wall, lighting another cigarette and peering through the darkness towards the school. Harry leaned against the wall, next to Malfoy's left. "Last year you couldn't see thestrals," Harry stated abruptly. Malfoy turned his face slightly towards him, a silver eyebrow raised in arrogant amusement. "What happened between then and now?"

Malfoy turned back to stare out into the darkness and took a drag before answering. "You have to take certain _steps_ in order to be initiated," he drawled.

Harry stood, suddenly tense, and stared openly at Malfoy's profile, frowning. His next question was loud, but his voice shuddered slightly. "You mean, you had to _murder_ someone?"

Malfoy glanced back at him and smirked. "What do _you_ think, Potter?"

Harry did not hesitate. "I think Voldemort -" Harry saw Malfoy tense "- told you to kill someone, and you did, just like the _disgusting_ lap-dog that you are!"

"Now, now, Potter," Malfoy drawled, still maintaining his bored indifference, "keep your trousers on." He suddenly gave Harry a once over while his cigarette drooped lazily from his lips. "Of course, you can take them off at a more appropriate time, if you like; perhaps in that bathroom -"

"Who did you kill?" It was a spoken in an almost animalistic growl; there was a darkness swirling within Harry, and he just had to _know_…

Malfoy, sensing that now was no time to be joking, shifted slightly and his bored mask changed to an expression much like Harry would think a poker face would look like: blank features, curious eyes and mouth set in a frown that meant business. They sized each other up. "Just a middle aged Muggle man," he said, "who had been married into the Malfoy family before his wife was disinherited."

Harry blinked. "Why -?"

"This only happened a few weeks ago," he drawled, playing with the butt of his cigarette, "so my Dragons and I needed Blood Relatives. Usually we don't choose who we kill for the initiation, but I needed a family member for _Haemato Transferin_, so I thought I could kill two birds with one stone."

Harry was frowning in thought. "But you _murdered_…!" 

"For the Cause, Potter," Malfoy said decisively. He took out another cigarette, and then lit it with the end of his previous one that had gone down. He threw the old butt on the ground and drove it into the grass with his foot, and then continued talking after he had taken a drag. "The woman, I think her name was Anima Malfoy before she got married, was the young cousin of my father's father. They never spoke of her, of course. For a Malfoy, let alone a Pureblood to marry a _Muggle_…" He trailed off and looked disgusted, as if the word 'Muggle' was something on his tongue that he wanted to spit out and obliterate with a wave of his wand. He glanced at Harry. "Anyway, she went into the Muggle World with him, and they had a daughter. I found all this out by talking to a house elf who apparently has been helping her keep in touch with wizard culture." He sighed, bored. "So I found her house, killed the man and kidnapped his daughter and brought her here. Anima Malfoy was nowhere in sight. She had abandoned them, about a year ago."

Harry looked away. He had been staring at Malfoy intensely, trying to find at least a hint of guilt, but Malfoy had been careful to keep his blank mask up. Harry hoped that Malfoy had not liked what he had done. It was hard to tell. Harry surprised himself by asking, "How did you kill him?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Killing Curse, what else? I wasn't about to get my hands dirty. Stunning the girl and lifting and dragging her away with me was bad enough."

Harry watched Malfoy smoke, and he smiled grimly to himself. Here was a boy, not yet a man, who made a huff about carrying something, yet he had no problems killing people. The Darkness was etched deep in Malfoy's soul and life, and it was running through him like blood. It was so deep that it would kill him to be extracted. Harry knew there was so much calm danger within Malfoy, he could almost _see_ it. And he had seen it before: in Sirius. It was Darkness so pure in its essence that Harry was attracted to it.

Then Harry heard himself say something, as if he was saying it without conscious thought; it just spilled through his lips. "I want to see your Mark."

Malfoy paused in his games with his cigarette. They were leaning against the shed, eyeing each other, faces close. Harry could see Malfoy testing him with his cold eyes in the darkness. The blonde held the smoking stub between his lips, and then held out his left arm, wrist facing upwards and fist clenched. With his right hand he pushed his sleeve back. Harry glared at the marred skin.

Every part of Malfoy's skin was white, soft and perfect as if he were made out of delicate, yet quality wax. It angered Harry to see something so beautiful poisoned with something as hideous as a tattoo of a skull eating a snake. The Dark Mark was about as big as Harry's palm and it lay about two inches from Malfoy's inner elbow. It was black and strong, portraying the power Voldemort had over his servant.

Harry thought that maybe he was really tired that cool morning, so tired that he was slipping into a dream state as he stood, because nothing he did made sense anymore. He did not even remember taking Malfoy's wrist in one hand, and softly running his fingers over the tattoo with the other. He could feel Malfoy watching him closely as he ran his finger pads seductively over his enemy's flesh; tracing the top of the skull, grinning mouth, teeth, up and down the snake, and finally over the snakes forked tongue. Maybe if he rubbed the right way, or with the right amount of pressure, he could smudge the Mark, erase its forbidden hold. Maybe there was a way Harry could claim Malfoy back with the right plan, the right type of magic, or the right amount of touches… Harry felt hypnotized and the night was still.

They locked eyes again, and Malfoy pulled his arm away, pushing the sleeves back down as Harry dropped his hands. "Does it hurt?" Harry asked quietly.

Malfoy took a drag of his neglected cigarette, now avoiding Harry's eyes. "No; it doesn't feel like anything." He was not drawling.

Harry was still staring at Malfoy's face intently. Harry squared his shoulders, feeling he needed to show that he was not fearful. Inside, he was trembling with an emotion he did not understand: something akin to excitement with a touch of longing. "What about when Voldemort calls for you?"

The young Death Eater took another drag, and Harry noticed his fingers were trembling slightly. "It's just a burning feeling. It's nothing, really." He sounded as if he was trying to reassure himself, rather than Harry. He suddenly sighed, dropping his third cigarette that night to the ground. "Potter," he said, drawling again, "it's just a tattoo, nothing more, like a splash of ink on skin." His eyes were narrowed, peering at something across the oval. "It doesn't touch anywhere else. Not my heart, not my soul, not anything that really matters." He pushed off the wall and turned to Harry and said softly, "We are going to pull this spy thing off, and we're going to do it _well_." Then he turned and walked away.

Leaning against the wall, Harry watched as Malfoy met his seven friends halfway across the oval. They were lit up with _Lumos_ spells, and Harry saw the light disappear when they disapparated.

In the few hours that Harry did sleep that morning, he dreamed.

It was dark, and he watched from a high place as Malfoy pushed his hood back and took his mask off. Then Harry reached down to Malfoy's face and traced a cheek with a long, white, bony finger.

Harry woke up feeling nauseous and his scar hurt. Voldemort was happy; he had a plan.

Morning did come and Harry ate breakfast, forcing himself to ignore the throbbing and just _be happy_. He was here with his best friends, after all.

But Malfoy is a murderer…

Early conversation was of the events of the night before, during Happy Hour. Within the two hours ('Happy Hour' was poorly named) Ginny's brothers had gone on a Ravenclaw bashing spree after Terry Boot had magiced water on Ginny's white T-shirt. Zabini and Parkinson had gotten hold of the Dynamic Duo's emergency stash of homemade beer, and had stripped half-naked and ran up and down the Muggle wing. Seamus had picked a fight with Crabbe after the Slytherin had called Seamus a poof, before Seamus wandering off, only to return shouting at Neville, 'I'm not gay!' Seamus was still sulking and had not come down to breakfast. 

Gossip still had not lightened Harry's spirits.

"I have something to show you, Harry," said Luna in her dreamy voice from down the table. That is all people want to do these days, always showing, showing, showing… "It's really quite good."

Harry nodded and turned to Hermione who was sitting across from him, looking as if she really wanted to say something. Harry stared at her as conversation buzzed and the clicking of forks on plates infested his ears, making his headache throb. "What is it, Hermione?"

"Occlumency," she burst out. "You're going to practice today, right, Harry?"

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"Good because it's very important. Have you met Artemis?" Harry glanced at the blank faced, large eyed, tall girl sitting next to Hermione. She was the only Slytherin down for breakfast, and she was currently patting her kitten whose silver fur was the same colour as its owner's hair.

"Um," said Harry.

"Well she's very good at Occlumency and Legilamency," said Hermione briskly, "and she'll be your teacher."

Quan suddenly came in and sat next to Harry. Harry's eyes widened and he felt a blush start to creep across his cheeks as he fumbled nervously with his breakfast. "Harry can do that later," said Quan forcefully. "He needs Apparation training first."

"He _doesn't_," Hermione snapped crossly. "He needs Occlumency training as soon as possible because it takes a while."

"Come on Hermione," said Ron from Harry's other side. "Apparation training won't take up much time. It's better to get it over and done with."

"Actually," came Anthony's voice from down the table, "it's better to alternate between the two."

"Alright," said Hermione, "but he has to do Occlumency first."

"Has everyone forgotten about his Combat Training?" came Padma's annoyed shout from next to Anthony. "He is _way_ too behind!"

"Don't forget that bloody Protection crap we have to do after breakfast," Justin said from the other end of the table. "Besides, Occlumency involves playing with Harry's mind, and I wouldn't trust a Slytherin to do that."

"Yeah," said Quan with dawning comprehension, "she's with _them!_"

"But she's also with _us_," said Ginny indignantly and coming to Artemis and Hermione's defence. "She can be trusted."

Then Artemis Moon's voice was heard. "If I'm to teach Potter," she said in her deep monotone, "it's only for the Cause."

"Cause, my arse," muttered Justin.

"Harry should do Apparation first," said Cho loudly as if that settled the matter.

All this time Harry had had his head down, staring at his eggs. He had not wanted to look at Quan in fear that he would embarrass himself, and he had not wanted to look at Hermione because she always had this 'look' about her when she argued, that he really did not want to see. In all honesty, he thought that Hermione was right: Occlumency was far more important than any of the other programs set up at Pegasus Lair, but Occlumency was by far the last thing he wanted to do.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and he looked behind him to see Luna standing there. She smiled, and in a fit of relief, he left the canteen with her.

There was a large room that Harry had not visited yet. The floor of it was covered in soft blue gymnastic mats, and on one wall was a large mural. Harry walked over to it and stared, while Luna went to the storeroom. The mural was painted in plain colours such as yellow, blue, green, orange, grey and black. Orange had been mixed with white to make light shades that made up the large image of a phoenix outlined in black, while next to it was the pale green and black of a dragon. The two creatures were facing each other, wings unfolded and glorious, and they had their mouths open as if they were roaring and squawking at each other. Or maybe laughing, or singing, or shouting.

The two creatures made up the large backdrop with the grey background, while on top of them was a strange assortment of peoples' hands. The members of the Dragon League and Dumbledore's Army had dipped their hands in different coloured paints and had pressed them to the wall. Under each hand, Harry could see, they had written their names with black and had drawn quick black sketches of animals.

Luna came up and stood next to him. He looked down and she was smiling. "There's only one person left who has not put themselves there," she said. She was holding two small buckets of paint, two paint brushes and she had to put them down to point to the small blank space in the middle of the mural.

The D.A. had left Harry a spot near the middle because he was their leader. Harry saw that just next to his empty spot there was a green hand with long fingers. Underneath was written the name, 'Draco', and next to the name was not a dragon, nor a snake. It was of a small white bird.

"I thought you might like red," said Luna, "but if you want a different colour -"

"No," said Harry softly, "red is good." He held out his right hand, and she dipped a large paintbrush in the red bucket, and then proceeded to paint his palm and fingers thoroughly with thick, smelly paint. Then he brought his hand up and pressed to the blank space. 

After he pulled away, Luna said, "_Sanitora,_" and the paint was cleaned from his hand.

Luna dipped a smaller, more delicate paintbrush with a thick wooden handle in the next tin of strong black paint. She handed it to Harry, and he brought it up to the wall to messily write 'Harry' underneath his red hand. After gathering some more black paint on the brush, he hesitated before drawing his animal. He looked at what the others had drawn; Goyle had drawn a moth, Hermione's was an otter, Cho had drawn a swan, Quan's a Chinese dragon, and there were many other unique animals. Harry smiled, knowing exactly what to draw.

He pulled back from it a moment later and the small stag stared at him from the wall.

All the members of Dumbledore's Army were in the courtyard when Harry and Luna came outside. Harry did not know where the Dragon League was, but he supposed the members had their own things to do. A warm breeze ruffled their hair as the Army assembled themselves around Angelina, and she spoke loudly and confidently.

"There are three main levels of Outward Protection Charms," she said. "Then with each level comes two to four different types. The first, an outward, frontal protection shield; the second, a three hundred and sixty degrees protection shield; the third, an outward, mass frontal protection shield; and lastly, the shield that can only be achieved on the third level: a three hundred and sixty degrees mass joint protection shield." She finished, and then eyed the group with her dark, menacing glare. "Got that?" she snapped.

Most quivered under her strange fierceness, but some were trembling with something else: an impatient excitement.

Harry already knew the first level, and apparently, so did most of the D.A. Alicia Spinnet explained to Harry that the first level did not need to be perfected, and so the older members of the D.A. taught the members not yet graduated the second level. Alicia tutored Harry while their friends practiced confidently around them, and sounds and colours of magic rippled through the air within the courtyard.

Concentration and the emotion of wanting to protect made the magic. "_Amphiprotego singaro sera!_" The magic was a strong blue, bursting from Harry's wand, spreading, and then surrounded him in a transparent cylinder.

Alicia clapped her hands together and grinned. "Good work Harry! Now try that spell in Level Three. We'll be doing the last two Types in," she checked her watch, "twenty minutes." Then she wandered off to help Michael Corner, who was having trouble with the first type in the second level.

Harry did the frontal spell first, as he already knew it and thought it might prepare him for the one that would shield his whole body. Harry knew that Level Three was hardest and slowest to do, but it had the greatest result. The Level warded off almost anything that did not have a pre-resistance. All physical attacks, and all written hexes, jinxes and curses were reflected by it. It was tiring to perfect, and the caster had to practice so the spell would not delay.

Level Two, however, was sometimes better than Three, as it had the effect of half reflect, where the potency of the attacking spell was half-nullified, and half-reflected back to the attacker.

"_Amphiprotego singaro magistarius refes_," Harry shouted boldly but to no avail; only a milky mist came shimmering from his wand.

"May I help?" It was the deep voice of Quan that made Harry shiver, and then he blushed when he felt a strong yet gentle hand press against the small of his back.

"Sh - sure," Harry stuttered, and then swallowed when Quan came up behind him and pressed his front against Harry's back.

Quan placed his right hand over Harry's. "I'll show you," Quan whispered, and his breath tickled Harry's neck.

The older boy held Harry's hand up and told him to wave in a more confident arc, and to not let the wand shake in his hand. "Think of Darkness, not happiness," said Quan as he stepped away. "That is what protection is about; taking harm's energy and using it for yourself."

And Harry did. He glared at nothing and thought of hate and the tainted parts of good, then said the words and held his wand with bold confidence. The magic seemed to grow within him before it spread out to make the misty cylinder of the shield.

Harry looked beyond the shield at Quan and grinned, but then he realized he was panting with the exertion of his own magical energy.

The shield shuddered and vanished, and Quan came over, grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him down to sit on the cracked concrete. "You did well, Harry," said Quan, though he was frowning and his dark eyes were wary. "But it was a few seconds delayed, and you seemed to have called on the wrong energy." Harry was confused and speechless, and Quan said quietly, "You need to call on outward Darkness, not the Darkness within you."

Harry froze, and Quan got up and made his way towards the older D.A. members who had grouped themselves a little ways off. Harry's heart was beating very fast. _The Darkness within you…_

He got up and made his way to his Gryffindor friends, who were standing around talking. The three Houses had split up into their respective groups. Angelina and Katie were talking with the Hufflepuffs, Quan and Alicia were instructing the Ravenclaws, and the Weasley twins were making their way over to Harry and the others. "This should be easy," said George confidently when he and his brother stopped in front of the Gryffindors. "You're already friends and know each other well, and that always helps."

What they were to practice was the group frontal protection shield, which did not need familiarity between the group to perform. The last Charm, and the hardest of all, did. 

The Ravenclaws demonstrated first. They all stood in a line in front of Quan and Alicia, and after a simultaneous flick of their wands, they shouted, "_Protego dovetis fuse!_" Rectangular, transparent blue shields appeared in front of each person, then a second later the vertical sides of each shield sought out the one next to it and joined on, and all the shields became one single long unit.

The rest of the D.A. applauded, and then it was the Hufflepuffs' turn. They did the same without any trouble, and then it was Gryffindor who had to cast the charm.

"Can't we go to lunch yet?" complained Seamus loudly, as the Weasley twins tried to get them all assembled. "I'm hungry and tired."

"Well you would be," said Fred, "after that exhausting night in the Hufflepuff Dorm."

Those who heard snickered and giggled as Seamus went bright red. The line of Gryffindors held out their wands and shouted confidently, "_Protego dovetis fuse!_" It had the same affect: strong, long and high, and Harry smiled honestly for the first time that day.

Dumbledore's Army went to lunch in a loud, but tired group. They had decided together that they needed to eat to be able to perform the last Type. The Dragon League were already there looking just as tired and ruffled, but maybe a little less happy. Harry glared at Malfoy, whose eyes seemed distant and whose cheeks were paler than usual. _What's your big secret?_ Harry thought. _What does Voldemort want with you?_

Harry decided to hold his tongue until Mass Meeting. He knew that would be the proper way to bring the issue of Voldemort out.

Lunch had people in argument. The Uniform United said they needed supplies and they were itching to go on a raid. The Ward Squad had sudden ideas that involved a lot of research, and Angelina, Alicia and Katie kept saying they needed to perfect the Joint Shield. Then the Slytherin members of the Crossfire Consortium decided to mention that they had been waiting for the D.A. to hurry up so they could practice more fighting, because it had been too many days since they had fought as a group.

Harry put his face in his hands just as Parkinson threw her food at Katie, and Hermione started talking about Occlumency again.

Would Sirius have let this happen?

Probably. He would have gotten his own food and thrown it at all the Slytherins, and then he would have laughed heartily at it.

Harry smiled. _ Then what would he do?_

He would leave with you, go to his room, and hold you until you both stopped giggling.

But it wouldn't end there, would it?

No. It would be a beginning, not an end.

Quan stood up unnoticed as cursing, shouting and food was thrown back and forth. "Come on, Harry, let's go."

Harry, surprised, got up and followed.

He stood ready with his wand a few feet away from Quan, as Quan threw instructions at him. "There are no words," said Quan. "Remember that. It's all about state of mind." They had set up various poles up around the oval, decorated with distinct red ribbons. Quan pointed to the nearest one. "Pretend it's a wonderful thing that you want desperately to go to. You know what to do, Harry." Quan suddenly beamed and Harry's concentration was thrown for a second, his focus on the sudden blaze Quan's dark eyes.

Harry turned, once more memorizing the pole, and then turned back to gaze inside his own mind.

Safety, want, move, and he saw the image of the pole, standing in that distinct patch of long grass, and he felt the flood of golden water, a warm flowing that connected from his chest to the area bathed in white light, and the golden stream was like a rush, expanding. Then suddenly there was a click somewhere inside himself like a sudden idea or realization, and barely consciously he waved his wand in a small arc beside his hip.

There was a flicker and a rush of wind for one a second, as if he had just transfigured himself into a moth, wings beating madly against the rush of magic, and then transfiguring back again. Harry was trembling with that rush and when he opened his eyes, he was staring wide-eyed at the pole. Quan ran up to him threw his arms around Harry's shoulders from behind. "I knew you could do it Harry," he murmured in Harry's ear.

Harry blinked out of his stupor, suddenly conscious of a warm lean body pressed against his back, strong arms around his shoulders and warm breath against his ear and neck. Harry tensed, gulped, and Quan put his hands on Harry's shoulders and turned him around. "You can do anything," said Quan softly. "This I know for sure." And all Harry could do was nod.

Each pole was just a bit further, and every time Harry disapparated, he apparated just near each one. The dizziness associated with the strange flying slowly dissipated with each spell, and Harry was starting to find the magic very pleasant. It was nothing like flying on broom, instead it was like he grew wings in a flutter so quick, like the flick of candle or the shutter from a slide show, and the gold shone bright and tantalizing within his magical blood. It was like a lifting of a curse or a sudden release from capture, and the knowledge of such a magic allowed his mouth to form a crooked smile from the crashing waves of wonder.

Time passed. Harry stood on one end of the oval, peering at the colourful figure of Quan, his image just a spot against the surrounding green trees and grass. Quan waved, signalling he was ready, and Harry's excitement and confidence grew, so much so that his concentration wavered. When he apparated, it was to crash right into Quan, and they both fell over.

Quan chuckled softy and Harry felt dizzy from the distance he had pushed himself, and they both sat in the grass. They pulled themselves up so they were squatting, Harry straddling Quan's leg and Quan had hold of his shoulder for balance and one hand on the ground to keep himself upright. Harry, his eyes lidded and face slack, barely noticed he had the front Quan's shirt scrunched in his fists or that Quan's smiling face was so close, or that Quan pulled Harry down a bit when Harry pulled on Quan's shirt to pull him closer.

Their lips pressed and fluttered together in a second of blank thoughts, their lips plump and red like ripe fruit, breath hasty and wet with exhaustion and desire. They grabbed clumsily at each other and they lost balance, falling back on the grass as a warm wet tongue was pushed into Harry's mouth, and Harry played with it with his own, noticing Quan's taut muscles under the thin white shirt, and there were fingers fumbling with Harry's own shirt. Quan smelt like skin, cologne and man, and, like slow water pouring over his head, Harry realized that Quan was a man, large and muscular under Harry's petite body and Harry's smaller hands, and still their tongues and lips were insistent as if immortal with never ending energy.

The air was silent save the chirping of insects, the distant conversation of birds, and the wet, smacking sounds of kissing. Quan's hands were up Harry's shirt, playing, and Harry was feeling Quan's thighs, strong and hard under his burning fingers, but deep down Harry knew, something was wrong, something like a shadow of sorrow and sadness towering over his mind, an insistent memory, perhaps it was trying to whisper in his ear. All this, the kissing and the feel of a man under him, was familiar, and Harry pushed his fingers through the other's hair, feeling it thick instead of thin, short instead of long, solid instead of silky.

Harry opened his eyes and pulled away slowly, and then gasped and pulled back altogether when he realized it was not Sirius under him. It was Quan all along and… it was wrong.

There was a sudden flash of memory and he closed his eyes tight, burying his face in his hands. The wet and sad feathered kisses of Cho, the frantic and desperate groping from Cedric under the darkness of the bleaches, the blazing, angry eyes of Malfoy in the Entrance Hall, the wary tongue of Sirius in his own mouth and Sirius… Sirius was gone, Cedric was gone, Cho was Quan's sister… and… and…

And before he knew it, wind was stinging his eyes as he was walking fast, away, away from the beautiful pain of Quan's kisses, and he did not look back.

Harry burst into the canteen, breathing heavily and sobbing, face wet with tears. Ron, Hermione and Ernie were up in an instant and were touching him, holding him, whispering in his ear and with a frustrated growl Harry pushed them away and sat heavily in his usual seat at the large dinner table. Without looking up, he knew everyone was staring at him.

Tears slid down his cheeks and Sirius was still dead, even when Harry had written to him several times a day, there were no replies. Ever.

The silence was almost palpable. Someone slid a plate with food on it under Harry's nose, but his eyes were so blurred he could not see what was on it. He sniffled and the tears stopped, and he supposed the green blur was peas and the white stuff was mashed potato and yes, he had kissed Quan and yes, he thought it was Sirius and yes, Sirius was _still_ dead.

A harsh voice cracked through the silence like the smashing of broken china and Harry winced. "You always have to get everyone's attention, don't you, Potter," snapped Malfoy. "Have to come in here crying like a baby and expecting every person to turn around and comfort you."

Ron growled, "Shut the fuck up, Malfoy." Hermione was rubbing Harry's back and Harry snapped his head up to glare at Malfoy.

"Who cares if your bloody dog is dead," continued Malfoy. "Grow. Up."

"Shut up," croaked Harry, sounding so pathetic and weak he clenched his fists and willed some confidence to show itself from within. "You don't know."

"Oh don't I?" Malfoy stood up and narrowed his eyes. "Wasn't it _my_ father in Azkaban? Isn't it me and _my_ friends risking our lives pretending to be something we're not?"

"You're father came back," Ron told him, "and that's different."

"Yeah, he did," said Malfoy, softer now. "But don't think for a second that he came back in one piece, and don't you _ dare_, Potter, believe that you are the only one who knows pain."

Harry stared at the pale, fragile boy in front of him. So young, so confident, so naïve, but his eyes were cold and grey, and so very, very old. _We're hardly adults and already our hearts are black._

Someone else stood up, and the echo of their chair scraping on the ground crashed through the large room. "Time to go," muttered Goldstein. "Gotta prepare the potion." A moment later and a few others had left. Harry and Malfoy were still glaring at each other when the other Slytherins got up too and Nott pulled on Malfoy's sleeve. They left.

Hermione made Harry eat, and he felt a bit better after a few mouthfuls of steak and mashed potatoes. "What happened, Harry?" Hermione asked softly.

"Quan," mumbled Harry, and he saw her eyes widen slightly.

The Mass Meeting was just as tense and morbid as dinner was. Quan came in and gave Harry a shy smile that said, 'It's okay, I understand,' and Harry felt the guilt drip slowly and deadly into his mind. This time last night Ron had just found out one of his brothers was a Death Eater, and all Harry could do was angst about his Godfather's death, and he had not given Ron much sympathy at all.

There were other things on Harry's mind though. Ever since Malfoy had spoken at the dinner table, Harry had remembered Malfoy had information concerning Voldemort, and Harry tried to will himself to think about that instead of the obvious pain in Quan's eyes, or the aching in his own heart, or the guilt. The Dragon League stood in front of the sitting Dumbledore's Army. Malfoy took his potion.

"Enoch village was raided last night," began Malfoy in his usual drawl, but something in his voice said that he was still riled up. "There was a shelter for squibs there, and we, the Death Eaters, destroyed it."

"Did anyone die?" asked Hermione in her this-is-business voice.

Malfoy's face was impassive. "Of course."

There were angry growls and sighs from the members of D.A. "Only squibs died though," added Malfoy, as if he thought that might make people feel better.

"And?" prompted Ernie.

Malfoy shrugged. "And nothing. Can we go now?"

"No," said Harry, and everyone turned to him. He narrowed his eyes. "Tell us what Voldemort said to you at the meeting."

There was a shuffle as everyone turned back to Malfoy. Malfoy seemed to hesitate, and then he turned and talked quietly to the D.L. members. After a moment he turned back to his interrogators. "He made some plans."

"Why didn't you say so before?" snapped Ernie.

Malfoy shrugged elegantly. "We didn't think you wanted that information. It doesn't concern you, really."

"We'll figure for ourselves what concerns us or not," said Ernie angrily. "So tell us."

"He just wants Potter, and will probably go after him at Hogwarts."

Ron's eyes widened. "How could that _ not_ concern us?"

Malfoy shrugged and hmmed, looking almost smug. Harry scowled. "He's lying."

Malfoy's eyes widened in mock innocence. "But how could I lie, Potter, when you saw me take the potion?"

"I mean, that's not what Voldemort said at all. Everyone knows he's after me, and everyone knows he'll eventually go after Hogwarts this year or the next. Lupin wrote to me and told me about that ages ago." Harry was frowning and giving Malfoy an intense look. "I'm talking about what he said to you, _about_ you."

Surprise flickered over Malfoy's features briefly before his face went impassive again. Then he turned his head slightly and exchanged an enigmatic glance with Nott, before addressing the others again. "That," said Malfoy tightly, "is my concern."

"No it's not Malfoy," persisted Harry, "because that sort of information being hidden away could endanger my friends."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "What are you implying?"

"I'm implying, Malfoy, that Voldemort is planning to use you in something that has nothing to do with village raids."

"Well I can assure you -" Malfoy suddenly cut himself off. He started again, "It's not -" He was cut off again and he paled slightly. He took a deep breath and said, "It is my business, and this aspect of the Dark Lord's plans will not endanger you or your friends."

"But what's going on?" said Harry, louder than before. "What's he want with you?"

"I said," Malfoy bit out harshly, "it's none of you business."

"But -"

"This meeting is over," snapped Malfoy, and he turned on his heel and stomped off.

A second later and Harry was out of the room, walking fast, following Malfoy down the corridor. He caught up to him, grabbed Malfoy's shoulder and shoved him hard against the wall. "What the fuck is going on!"

"Not your business!" Malfoy struggled and Harry held both of Malfoy's upper arms and had him pinned to the wall.

"What does he want with you? Is it to spy?"

Malfoy growled and continued to struggle so Harry slammed his body against Malfoy's to pin him to the wall. Both boys stilled instantly, both breathing hard.

"Tell me," said Harry, softer now their faces were so close. "I won't tell the others if you don't want me to. But I am their leader, and I need to protect them."

"It's not me they need protection from," said Malfoy quietly, and he grabbed onto Harry's arms, so they were holding each other, but Malfoy made no move to push Harry away. A pause to let their breathing steady, and Malfoy said, "I've been selected."

"For what?" asked Harry immediately.

For a moment Malfoy closed his eyes and Harry was left to stare at his flushed face. Malfoy ignored Harry's question and said, his eyes still closed, "I'm not the only one."

Harry was desperate now. "Not the only one for what?"

Malfoy sighed. "The Dark Lord wanted the giants," he murmured, "and he wants other creatures…" He stopped and opened his eyes. Suddenly, as if he only just realized what he had been about to say, he shoved Harry off him.

"What does he want?" said Harry quickly. "Tell me!"

"No." Malfoy began to walk away.

"Malfoy!"

"Forget it," said Malfoy over his shoulder as he receded. "It doesn't concern you." And then, as an after thought, he said, "It's my problem."

* * *

Seamus found Harry a little while later, sitting on the ground and slumped against the wall.

"It's Angelina," said Seamus as Harry got up, "she's hell pissed off, and a real fright." They slowly walked down the corridor. "I'm kinda scared of her."

"Yeah," mumbled Harry, "I suppose it's the unfinished shields, is it?"

"Aye, but I'm so tired, I don't want to do it now."

But they were made to by Angelina and Hermione, and in the large room with the mural on one wall, the Gryffindors gathered. 

The older Gryffindors made the younger ones get into a circle, front facing outwards. No one said anything to Harry, but he got some strange looks. He had gone on a rollercoaster ride of emotions and thoughts that day, and one memory that wouldn't leave his mind was the image of Malfoy's face so close to his, and the feel of Malfoy's breath on his own face. Harry was confused and exhausted from it all.

Angelina commanded them to concentrate. "And feel the links of friendship within you," she instructed. "It's much the same feeling you get when calling a patronus. Sense the others around you and gather your combined power! And for Merlin's sake, get it bloody right!"

Fred counted down from three and the Gryffindors shouted at the same time, "_Amiti protego fuse expelleris!_"

Something shifted and the air shuddered as Harry stood with the others, frowning in concentration. A brief silence, and then -

"Aaaaargh! Pathetic! What is WRONG with you lot!"

"It's their first time Angelina," said Alicia quietly, "they're bound to -"

"Grrrr!"

"…Never mind."

They tried for another hour or so. They were all tired, and knew that they needed to rest before practicing something so advanced. Neville, quivering under Angelina's stern gaze had mentioned as much, but that had just make Angelina rant about unpredictable Death Eaters and, "What if you're tired when they attack? Huh? What about THEN?"

After a while the group left the room and walked together to the research room full of tables littered with quills and scrolls. Harry had not gotten to sit down, however, because Cho had come up to him.

"There's something I need to -"

"Show me. Yeah, I know."

"It won't take long," said Cho cheerfully as they walked down and through narrow dark corridors Harry had not seen yet. She smiled up at him. "The Crossfire Consortium will give you your first lesson tomorrow. It'll be fun, you'll see."

"Yeah, okay," said Harry distractedly. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her warily. "Listen, about earlier today… I mean, about Quan..." He trailed off, expecting her to pick up what he was saying, but she continued to just look at him with a small smile and large brown eyes.

They stopped in front of a doorway, its door warped and wonky on its hinges. Cho suddenly kicked out at it and it banged open.

She walked in, cast the_ lumos_ spell and then turned to him. "I don't worry about my brother, Harry, he can look after himself." She shrugged. "It's none of my concern, really."

Harry frowned and looked around. It looked like just another narrow corridor; dirty and dusty with dead-ends at left and right. His eyes widened before he narrowed his eyes to peer through the darkness at the things hanging on the walls.

There were metal objects hanging, and when his own wand joined Cho's in the _lumos_ spell, more light glinted off the sharp edges of random silver.

"Hmm," murmured Harry in appreciation, but then he looked down at Cho again. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I mean…" He sighed and closed his eyes. "Kissing him and then leaving him -"

"Harry," she interrupted, "he doesn't care, I promise." Her voice took on a serious edge and her expression hardened. "These are serious times; none of us really have time to think about our romantic futures or what a kiss might mean. I'm not offended, he's not offended, and kissing is fun." She grinned, and Harry returned one of his own.

They both turned back to the wall and Cho held up her wand. "These are weapons we've brought back from raids," she said, "and we practice with them often, or at least, we did earlier. We've kind of passed the experimentation stage now.

"What you need to do, Harry, is pick yours, and you will be trained in combat with your chosen weapon."

Harry gave Cho a determined look of understanding, and he started to walk slowly up and down, holding his lighted wand high and looking at each weapon in turn.

There were chains, spears, flails, swords, knives and daggers, crossbows and other things that were fascinating to Harry, such as the long chain that had handles on each end, and gloves and boots that were fixed with long metal spikes.

Harry knew what he wanted. There was a weapon back at Hogwarts, hidden in the Headmaster's office and encased in glass, and Harry belived that was the only weapon for him. However, because he could not have his desired now, he gave Cho his wand to hold and pulled a large sword off its nails and looked at it closely.

It was a double-edged blade, and the handle and hilt was tightly wrapped in worn leather. It was a simple design, and when he swung it out and brought the flat of the blade to the outward flat of his palm, he could see that the blade was blunt in places from use. It was old, and hardly grand, but Harry thought it would be great to practice with. He swung it in the darkness a few more times, smiling a bit at the _woop_ it made as he cut the air. It felt good and powerful in his hands, and brought him the feeling of a lifting sort of glee.

Cho turned from where she was pulling something large and leathery off the wall. "Good choice," she said. "I'm good with the sword too, though I'm into the traditional Chinese swords myself." She put their wands in one of his hands, and then took the sword from him, putting it into its black leather holster. "This," she explained, holding up it up, its buckles jingling with the movement, "will be strapped to your uniform, so the sword stays on your back."

Harry grinned in reply, unable to stifle his excitement for when he would next use his new weapon. 

* * *

The room was thumping with a base so loud, the melody was hardly audible. Harry stood on the edge, leaning against the rough stone wall, a watcher, separated from the raging river of moving flesh and bodies. Limbs were thrown, bodies were moving, someone was throwing water around and the whole thing was pumping, wet and dusty from the dirt kicked up from the floor. The dancing fireflies cast small beams of light, so Harry only saw bits and pieces of the people in front of him; a tantalizing dance of highlighted skin. He could taste the dust and sweat on the air.

There were mouths open in vibrant ecstasy, lips on others' mouths and skin, and the music was like a drug, fuelling everyone with energy and inspiration to just _move_ and not care. The girl in the song sung, "_I kiss your lips and close my eyes._

"Take you away to paradise.

"Make everybody see that I love you and you love me." 

Harry bit into his bar of chocolate and watched as Parkinson and Zabini danced on the table-turned-platform in the middle of it all. They were only wearing their knickers and tank-tops, having discarded their clothing a little while ago.

He hated the way he almost saw Sirius in everything; and it only really happened after he had died, when Harry started to really evaluate what they once had. A brush of fingers, and Harry thought it was Sirius summoning him, but it was really just one of his friends trying to get his attention. He had to think about the here and now, where his friends were.

It was getting easier to do, but that did not stop it from being hard to forget.

Harry laughed softly to himself when Parkinson and Zabini started kissing each other heatedly on the platform. There were a few loud complaints from some of the people below, and only a few seconds had passed before Malfoy and Smith pushed the two girls off and started dancing enthusiastically on the table.

Malfoy's hair was slightly mused, and he wore a white loose corset that tied at the front, so Harry could see a long strip of his front, including his small belly button. His shorts were black and long, as if they had once been trousers he had cut the bottoms off, and the ragged edges went well past the knees. Harry shook his head; he did not quite understand this weird teenaged wizarding fashion. When Malfoy turned around, Harry could see something dark that covered his back, and some of his neck and shoulders.

Harry leaned forward to peer threw the flickering darkness, but could not make it out.

He realized, quite suddenly, that whenever he thought of Malfoy, he could completely forget about Sirius. Harry looked away from Malfoy's beautiful and thrilled face, and instead gazed longingly towards the door. After finishing his chocolate and quickly glancing around, he headed for it.

When he shut the door behind him, the music was quashed to a muffle. He walked back to his room tiredly.

When he entered his room, he got quite a shock.

His hand was still on the door handle, as he stared openly at Hermione, Ron and Ernie, who had made themselves comfortable on his bed.

"Close the door Harry," said Hermione gently, "and come join us."

He did so, sitting next to Ernie and leaning a little against him. "What's going on?"

Ron smiled wryly at him. "We knew you were going to leave early. You were in one of your moods again."

"Besides," added Hermione, "it's about time we had some real words with you."

"Mmph," mumbled Harry dismissively, shifting his seat on the covers. "I don't feel like talking about work now. It's bloody Happy Hour."

"We're not here to talk about that," said Hermione patiently. "We're just having a chat, that's all."

Harry exchanged a quick glance with the boy next to him. Ernie's face was impassive, but he appeared somewhat amused. Harry shrugged. "What you want to talk about?"

Hermione got straight to the point. "What happened with Quan today?"

Harry glanced away guiltily and bit his lip. He figured he may as well talk about the things that had been rattling around his mind like a lost bludger, and infusing his hormones lately. He shrugged again and gave them all a bored look to tone down the air of seriousness that had become thick between them. "I just, um… well I, kissed him, today, on the oval."

His three friends were instantly surprised. Ron's mouth had dropped open and it was so wide that Harry could see the red back of his throat.

"Since when," Ron choked out, "do you kiss, you know, _boys_ and stuff?"

Hermione turned her surprised gaze on Ron. "Oh come on, as if you didn't know."

"B-but," stuttered Ron, "you kissed Cho and, well…"

"Let's see," said Ernie finally, "Harry goes to the Yule Ball with the hottest girl in our year, then he dates the hottest girl in _school_, and yet he still wants to kiss boys?" He laughed softly. "Sound pretty, erm…"

"We know what it sounds like," said Hermione. She turned to Harry inquiringly as he ran a hand through his hair. "So you kissed Quan. Was it any good?"

"We don't need to hear this," said Ron, his voice strained.

"It was alright," said Harry. "But…" he looked away. "I've had better."

"Who?" demanded Ron.

Harry blushed under his friends' intense stares. "Well, first there was Cedric, then -"

"Diggory?" exclaimed Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry before clearing his throat. "And then there was Sirius -"

"Sirius? Oh Merlin…"

"Alright Ron," Hermione chided, putting an arm around his neck. He calmed down.

"Then Cho, then Quan. And that's it."

"You guys just kissed, right?"

Harry was taken aback by Hermione's question. "Who?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Any of them."

"Um…" His mouth was going a bit dry as he thought back to previous experiences. "Well, with most of them, yeah. Except with Sirius."

Ernie was frowning thoughtfully. "I thought he was your Godfather."

"He was," Hermione confirmed quietly, but she held a determined look on her face. "That wasn't right of him."

"It was me!" exclaimed Harry suddenly. "Don't blame him, Hermione!" His voice sounded shrill, but he did not care. "I seduced _him_, not the other way around! I don't care what people say -"

"Who said that?"

"Lupin. But -"

"Then he was right, Harry," she said loudly. "You were only fifteen!"

"But I wanted to."

"And he took advantage of that."

"NO!" He made to stand up, but Ernie grabbed his wrist.

"Sit down, Potter," he said softly, and Harry looked into the fierce confidence in his blue eyes. Harry sat back down.

"I - I loved him," Harry mumbled.

There was silence for a long time.

Ernie broke it. "So," he asked tentatively, "what was it like?"

Harry grinned. "Amazing," he said, and he remembered.

-TBC-

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	5. Fight and Moon

**Paper Flowers**  
By dented-sky   
Rated R

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter Five - Fight and Moon

In my field of paper flowers  
And candy clouds of lullaby  
I lie inside myself for hours  
- Imaginary (Evanescence)

She's taking her time making up the reasons to justify all the hurt inside   
Guess she knows from the smiles and the look in their eyes   
Everyone's got a theory about the Bitter One   
They're saying, "Mama never loved her much"   
And, "Daddy never keeps in touch   
"That's why she shies away from human affection"   
But somewhere in a private place she packs her bags for outer space   
And now she's waiting for the right kind of pilot to come   
She can't remember a time when she felt needed   
If love was red then she was colour blind   
All her friends they've been tried for treason   
And crimes that were never defined   
She's saying, "Love is like a barren place,   
"And reaching out for human faith   
"Is like a journey I just don't have a map for"   
Send a signal that she's hanging all her hopes on the stars   
What a pleasant dream   
- Moon and Back (Savage Garden)

Makes me that much stronger, makes me work a little bit harder  
Makes me that much wiser  
Thanks for making me a fighter  
- Fighter (Christina Aguilera)

Just before Harry would go to Dreamland, he would play a little game with himself.

If it were not for Snape, who had taught Harry this Little Trick, he may have appreciated it more. But it was really all about the reward-punishment system that Hermione would often insist worked.

Namely, if Harry was able to achieve Occlumency before he fell asleep, he would promise himself extra food for breakfast in the morning. If he dreamt too much that night, he would punish himself by doing a horribly good deed, such as help Hermione out with SPEW or have a boring conversation with Lavender for half an hour. A bad dream involving Voldemort insured much punishment the next day.

This night was one of the bad nights. Harry had fallen asleep during the four-way conversation on his bed, and so had not had time to do his usual Occlumency. The other factor was that he had not eaten very much at all during the day because his mind and emotions were buzzing around his body like a loose fireball. And when his stomach is practically empty and there is too much going on in his head, sleep would always be a great adventure.

The first dream was one that Harry had had before, and not one he particularly liked because it involved an agitated Sirius.

Sirius in his tight leather trousers had been sitting on his motorcycle that night, scowling at Harry.

"You're not getting on," Sirius had said.

"Bugger that." Harry had been clambering on the big ugly metallic thing. It was getting a bit more in focus, now that he remembered the scene properly.

Sirius' hair was long and shiny in the moonlight, his face was unshaven and he looked extremely grumpy. "I'm in a bad mood," he stated unnecessarily.

"Mmm," said Harry as he adjusted himself on the long leather seat.

"And you're not helping."

"Right."

"And I want to go for a ride."

Harry, who had been maneuvering his legs over Sirius' thighs, stopped, looked up at his Godfather and grinned.

"Not like _that_."

A smug look.

"I meant I want to ride my… um, my motor - stop that."

"No."

Sirius had given Harry one of his sternest looks then, which Harry of course, had ignored.

He ran his hands up the thick thighs, then when he reached the angle, curled his fingers around sharp hips. Harry leaned forward and gave Sirius one of his best sultry-yet-cute puppy looks.

Sirius closed his eyes, and Harry frowned. "I really just want to go for a flight tonight, Harry."

Harry's palm and fingers found a rough cheek. Sirius was forced to look back. Harry murmured, "Kiss me and I might consider it."

"If Moony only knew…" Sirius had muttered before moving in, but Harry had moved away, shocked.

He was so angry then, he could even remember it now, in his dreams and in sleep, that horrible jealousy like a hot fever.

Harry tried to get off the bike, stumbling. "Well if it's really him you want to ride tonight, I'm going!"

Sirius had grabbed his arm. "It's not what I meant!"

A bitter snort, followed by a sob and the swirling of dark colours. A firm grip on his arm.

Stumbling.

"Harry _please!_"

Silence.

Harry had stared up at Sirius then. They were standing some ways off from the bike, Harry having run away and Sirius having run after him. "You're still in love with him," Harry accused.

"I don't know what I want, I'm confused."

"You're _always_ confused!"

"Harry…" And here Sirius looked sad and helpless, this much Harry did remember. To see a grown man so bent out of shape was to see the world suddenly weak and collapsing. Harry had almost stumbled again.

"I love you -" Harry started.

"_Stop saying that!_"

" - And you keep looking at him! As if - as if you want to kiss him or something!"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Don't be hypocritical, Harry." It had been said like a father would have said it: scolding and mock-wise.

At that point Harry had been staring, taken completely aback. Firstly, being scolded like that had sent a jolt of arousal through him that was accompanied by the revolted churning of his stomach. Secondly, _how did he know,_ and thirdly -

Sirius was like his _father_ and that had _felt so good_ in the most disgusting way possible. It was like cutting: a wonderful bolt of adrenalin, or the sweet center of a ball made of stinging pain. And then at some point Professor Lupin had come in, beautiful and living in a deceptive veil of youth, there, watching, a part of everything.

But something was shifting in the dream, because Sirius was frozen, and Harry _was in the dream_ as himself, not as his fifteen year old self, staring and standing in this frozen three-dimensional land. Even Sirius's hair, which had been blowing in the wind, was frozen with it.

There was a shudder within himself as he experimentally made his fingers move. _I could kiss him again!_

But something was distracting him. The was the faint noise of breaking twigs, the kind of serene sound a fire makes when it is burning wood. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see the tell-tale flickering yellow and orange light. He turned his head.

And instantly Sirius and the motorcycle were gone. He was alone in a grassy field, and in the distance a small village was burning.

He started to walk towards it in even strides, not of his own accord.

Someone came up from the side. The person, swathed in all black and faceless, kneeled and Harry stopped so the man could kiss the bottom hem of his robes.

"My Lord - I am sorry, My Lord… but they are unhappy with the sacrifice."

Harry inhaled through his nostrils and scowled. The breath came out in a high pitched hiss. "What is it they want?"

"They say, My Lord, that they wish - "

Harry kicked him. "Get up, Moon, and stop mumbling!"

Moon did as he was told. "My Lord, sir, they wish for a Queen."

Harry felt intrigued and triumphant suddenly. "And they shall have her, am I correct?"

Moon's face was covered in a white mask but his feelings were evident. The last statement seemed to him to be greatly upsetting news. "But - but My Lord…"

"You will send for her tomorrow."

The rest of the conversation was lost as the sound faded, and Harry felt arms encircle his shoulders as he was hugged from behind.

There was a feeling of weightlessness as Harry was pulled back, and the two entwined and naked bodies were lying on a bed.

Harry liked _this _dream.

It was of one of those nights in Grimmauld Place with Sirius, where there was a lot of rubbing, kissing and sweat.

Harry snaked an arm around Sirius's waist and snuggled in, bucking up a bit against the other's flesh. There was one irritating problem though: he was waking up, and Sirius seemed a little too small to be real.

Harry's face was buried in someone else's hair. Some else's _blonde_ hair.

"Having fun there, you two?" chuckled Seamus from somewhere in the room.

Harry, who had been pressing his hardness against this other person, decided it was time to wake up properly.

"Mmmph, sorry," said The Blonde Person, who turned out to be Ernie, "Must've fallen asleep on your bed."

"Um, yes," mumbled Harry as he stumbled off. His hand shot up to his hair to smooth it over self-consciously.

Ernie got out too. He was ignoring Seamus and Lavender, who were standing at the foot of the bed, sniggering, and the fact that Harry had probably spent the last half hour dry-humping him. But Ernie had always been the most mature of them all; it was if he were a grown man stuck in a skinny teenaged body.

After the four had gotten quite over it, they made their way to breakfast. There were still some quiet mutterings from Lavender that consisted mainly of, "that's so cute," and Seamus would have said more had he not been sick of being teased about Justin Finch-Fletchley.

The night before, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ernie had stayed up late talking. There was a lot about Ron's family, about how Ron was sure his mum did not know about Percy and, should he write to her and tell her? Sympathy all around. Perhaps he should, Harry had considered, but she will find out eventually through Order dealings.

Harry found out about the Dragon League's alibi. Zabini's uncle organized magical camps in the summers for children who wanted extra magical learning. The Slytherins often went there anyway, but this time Zabini captured her uncle and used him for the _Haemato Transferin_, and then they sent fake letters to their families about how they were having a wonderful time and learning new things. It allowed them to leave for Death Eater meetings when summoned.

As soon as Harry entered the Canteen, hush descended. People were staring. Lavender, Seamus and Ernie sat down.

Harry slowly did the same. Silence, and eyes were on him, and some on Ernie.

With a jolt Harry realized they had been talking about how he and the Hufflepuff had slept together. He dared not look at Quan or Malfoy.

Instead, he looked at Ernie. He was unfazed and talking quietly with Susan.

"So?" Parvati barked suddenly. "Is it true?"

"No," Harry snapped back at her, "of course not!"

"We were talking," began Ernie quietly, "very platonically, mind you, and I fell asleep." Then he went back to his breakfast.

There were sighs of relief from many, as if it were one large, collective breath. Then there was noise as everyone started to eat again.

"You must be really stuck on interesting gossip," remarked Harry angrily.

Boot mustered a wry grin. "Yeah," he said, "we are a bit. You chucked us juicy morsel."

Lavender, next to Boot, said, "Nah, Harry always has something going on with him. I heard a rumour…"

Boot frowned and muttered something in her ear.

She pushed him away. "Oh no, but I have to know!

"It's about your godfather. Is it true that you and he - ?"

"Shut up, Lavender," Ron growled as Harry's insides jolted painfully.

She widened her eyes and blinked stupidly. "But I bet it's not even true - "

"No, really," cut Hermione, "you should be quiet now."

Harry bit his lip and stared angrily at his plate. He tried to swallow, tried to push the hard suffocating heat that was anger away, but the damage was done.

"So it _is_ true!"

Harry got up, and stormed out the building. He took a big breath, but it hitched. He needed some air.

When he got outside, he headed to the oval and walked quickly across. He did not know where he was going; he just needed to _go out somewhere_. Then he realized that Lavender and the others prayed on him because they were stuck here too, and cut out from the outside world, and they just wanted to have some fun, grasping at it, because eventually happiness will slip out their grasps like wet soap.

But that was no excuse, he thought angrily, it's none of their business!

And now they all knew.

Harry was surprised that they knew about Sirius' innocence in the first place. He felt a much prouder swell inside at the thought that they believed him, and he was glad that he had friends who knew the truth, but God, they did not need to know about _that!_

Harry slowed his random stomping through the tall weeds. And so what if they knew? The damage was done, he supposed. But that information was his and Sirius's, and it did not belong to them.

He heard crunching of grass behind him, and knew he was being followed. He turned around and glared.

Parvati Patil.

She stopped in front of him and a sheepish smile crossed her pretty tanned face.

"I'm sorry -"

"Save it." He turned back around and continued walking. She followed and started to walk with him. He looked away and to the trees, saddened.

"I have some news that might cheer you up," she tried.

He clenched his teeth and said nothing, so she continued.

"Letters came in, from Hogwarts. They're a bit late, but it looks good." She paused, and Harry knew she was trying to catch his eye, but she could not. "Ginny and Luna are prefects," she continued, "and Katie was made Quidditch Captain."

Harry was happy to hear it. He turned to her. She smiled at him. He smiled half-heartily back.

"You got a letter from Professor Lupin."

Harry expected as much. He was supposed to write often to the Order of the Phoenix, but had not bothered in the past week because he was busy; the letters were supposed to be an assurance of Harry's safety, and the Order was supposed to think he was kidnapped now.

"But," she beamed at him, "we have something that will definitely make you feel better! But you have to come back inside."

He stopped and gave her a look. Anything Parvati thought fun usually did not get the same reaction from Harry.

"Your uniform!"

"Oh no."

"Yes! Oh c'mon Harry, it will be fun and besides, you need to get fitted. And we've done some really cool adjustments in the past few days." She grabbed his wrist and turned, dragging him towards the school.

"Lavender thought up this really cool idea," she babbled as Harry was half-dragged along. "Apparently super heroes use watches to transform, or something, I didn't understand it, so we thought of using a watch to transform, but then we thought of something even better. You'll see our hard work, it's very grand…"

Eventually they entered a large room full long wooden tables, that were covered with all sorts of different materials. Colours and textures littered the room and over the floor, walls and furniture. Harry felt as if he had entered a strange hypnotic rainbow box.

Standing and sitting around chatting and smoking, were all the members of Uniform United: Padma, Lavender, Parkinson and Zabini.

Parvati made a show of waving away cigarette smoke as she walked in. "You guys shouldn't smoke in here; it'll stink up the fabrics."

"Ever heard of magic, alright?" said Zabini haughtily, and took a drag.

"Or perfume?" added Parkinson.

Parvati made a face. "I've had enough of your perfume, thank you."

"So he finally got here," murmured Padma, gesturing to Harry, who was standing behind Parvati a little awkwardly.

Lavender could not suppress her squeals. "Yay!" she exclaimed, jumping off the table. "This'll be fun!"

Harry cringed.

Lavender grabbed his arm and dragged him over to one corner where a blackboard on wheels was propped. "Go behind here, and take off all your clothes."

Harry blushed. "Pardon?"

"Well," began Lavender, considering, "you could probably keep your knickers on, if you want."

"Um, yeah, I think I will."

Lavender looked a bit disappointed at that. Then Harry went behind the board and started to lift off his jumper. He was doing it slowly, thinking thoughts like, _Why am I doing this?_

"And then you have to rub this into your skin, everywhere." Lavender's delicate hand appeared from the other side of the board, holding a tube of cream. Harry took it, hesitating.

"And hurry up!" ordered Parkinson from somewhere in the room.

Once Harry had removed most of his clothes, he squeezed some of the thick clear cream onto his palm and started to rub it onto his arms and shoulders. It stunk like bog water, and the feeling of it made his skin crawl. "What is this stuff?" he asked.

"Liquid _protego_," someone answered politely. Harry detected it was probably from Parvati.

"It feels like…" It was thickening, and he felt as if he was wearing a layer of glue. "It feels like Gladwrap."

"What's Gladwrap?" someone asked.

"It's this plastic stuff my mum uses to wrap food in," Lavender answered in her high-pitched, squeaky voice. "Okay Harry," she continued louder, "when you're done, put these on." The hand appeared again with a bundle of black leather clothes in its fist. They dropped to the floor.

One item was trousers, which were black, made of thick leather. He put them on, and when he finally did up the zip at the side, they magically shrunk to his size, so they fitted tightly.

"Gah," said Harry.

"Are you done yet?" Parkinson asked nastily.

"Uh," Harry picked up the next item, which was a corset made of the same stuff as the trousers, "No - not yet."

The ribbons were loosely criss-crossed at the back, and Harry slid in on, then adjusted it. It was like wearing a T-shirt with no straps, neckline or sleeves.

He apprehensively came out from behind the board.

"Ohhhh," Lavender cooed, "you look grand!"

"Come," Padma beckoned, "and we'll fix you up."

He stood in the middle of the room, as the girls surrounded him. Padma fiddled with his trousers, strapping a knife onto his right thigh; Parvati and Zabini went off to fetch something, Lavender had something black in her hands and Parkinson went behind him. She immediately tugged on the ribbons on the corset, hard. Harry gasped.

"It has to be tight and secure," Parkinson clarified with another forceful tug.

Zabini and Parvati came back, and stood to the side and watched. Lavender was fiddling with something, tying it to his bare left arm.

"We customized all the uniforms for everyone," she told him softly. "These are three leather straps." And she buckled the thick straps around his bicep. "You attach things to them - potions, darts, small knives. You should ask Ginny to give you some of her poison throwing razors; she got heaps of them in the last raid."

"Okay," Harry mumbled.

Parkinson grabbed a high-collared robe from a hanger. Parvati came over and started to shove on a long, black gauntlet. Lavender did his left arm. "Protection," said Parvati, "but we weren't sure about how to design it, as you wield a sword. You won't be gloved on the fingers, but your palm will be covered. If it doesn't suit, tell us and we'll change it."

They continued to strap them on, and Lavender began softly, "Listen, Harry…" She swallowed. "I'm sorry for this morning."

"It's alright."

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings; I just get carried away sometimes."

He turned to her. She looked very sorry, so he gave her a soft, reassuring smile.

"Ok," Parvati said as everyone stood back to inspect him, "how does it feel so far?"

The gauntlets went high up to his elbows. He flexed his hands experimentally, pleased at how durable it felt. "Good," he breathed.

Padma brought up a chair, and Harry sat in it. She kneeled and played with his feet, then pushed up the trousers to his knees.

Zabini came to kneel by his ear, and was fiddling with something.

There were boots beside them, and Padma grabbed his left bare foot and started to shove it on. "Dragonhide. Is very soft, but can stand anything." She started to buckle it up to mid-calf.

"This'll hurt," said Zabini suddenly.

"Wha - OW!" Harry's right hand flew up to his right ear.

"Told you it would hurt, innit." She smirked.

Harry looked at his fingers. There was a small smear of blood.

"Don't let him bleed everywhere," Parkinson demanded.

"I won't, alright," Zabini muttered.

Padma was still working with the boot.

"What did you do?" Harry asked Zabini as he fingered his sore ear. But then he realized: Zabini had pierced his ear in three places with studs. One at the top, one at the side and one on his lobe.

She swatted his hand away, then preceded to wipe his ear with a tissue.

Padma, satisfied with the left fitting, started on the right.

When that was done, Harry was coaxed to stand up. Parkinson came over with a robe and put it on him.

It only had a right sleeve that lengthened down to his hand. The other sleeve was completely cut off, so his shoulder was bare, and he could see the leather straps and the gauntlet. Parkinson fiddled with the collar, doing up the thick silver buckle.

Then Lavender came over with a cloak, beaming at him. "We got your Invisibility cloak, and made some adjustments," she told him triumphantly.

"What!" Harry stared at her wide-eyed, shocked and very scared for his inheritance.

"Well, standard PL cloaks are used to magically adjust to your body temperature," she began, "but you had an Invisibility cloak so -"

"What did you _do?_" Harry demanded.

"We put them both together!" Lavender sung. "So now you have both properties, see." She held up the cloak, it looked plain, then she presented the other side, with gave off a pretty watery shimmer. "So all you have to do is swap which side you want!"

Harry was still mortified. He exhaled loudly.

Lavender put it on him, clasping it on the thick collar.

Parvati had something large in her hands. She went behind him, and started to strap it onto his right shoulder and his back. She explained to him that it was his sword holder, and the armour on his shoulder allowed him to rest the blade there whenever he wanted. She gave him his sword, and he handled it for a little while before reaching behind him and sliding it into its holder.

"So basically, right," Zabini explained, "the first earring is your transformation, innit. Pinch either side for three seconds - that should activate your uniform, alright. Pinch it again for three seconds, and you return to wearing the clothes you were wearing before. Pinch it now."

Harry did. He felt something thick, a magical charge that surged around him and fixed to his uniform.

"The earrings are invisible when you're not in your normal form, alright," Zabini continued. "The middle earring loads a sensory mask that lets you see statistics of the things around you, and the other one lets you see in the dark."

"Are we done yet?" Parkinson whined. She pinched her right ear, and with a shudder, her clothes magically transfigured into her customized uniform. Hers was less modest than Harry's, with gloves that reached high up her arm, knee-high boots, a short skirt, all trimmed with pink and white lace.

Harry made a face and went to go behind the board. He pinched the earring on his lobe, and then got dressed. When he pressed the earring again, he was back in his uniform.

When he came back around, the others were waiting for him, all dressed in their gear.

Everyone else was in the large hall. When Harry and Uniform United entered, he saw the blue mats, the painted collage on the far wall with everyone's hands, names and animals on it, and then he realized that everyone was dueling with each other in their uniforms. And they were not just dueling with wands either - some were not using wands at all - but were using their weapons and what appeared to be wandless magic. Hermione and Alicia, Ron and Quan (Harry blushed when he caught his eye), Ernie and Fred, and others were dueling with each other, while some, with their bows and arrows, were getting some target practice at the back.

Malfoy and Nott saw them first. "Well, finally His Majesty has decided to join us," drawled Malfoy loudly, waving his arms in an extravagant and sarcastic gesture.

He looked very sexy in his tight black leather and thick boots. He had strapped on two extra gloves onto his existing ones, and they were strong and wound tight, with four sliver blades curving sharply from his knuckles. "Everyone shut up and gather round," he directed to everyone in the room. "No more mucking about, time for something _real._ Crabbe! Goyle!" he barked, and they walked out when he gave them a look.

Everyone did gather, making a circle around Malfoy and Nott. Malfoy stood more to the side, while Nott stood haughtily in the middle, his fierce eyes scanning the circle, while he spoke in his low, dark voice. "Just because most of you need it," he said loudly, "I'm going to explain once again, that this is war, and any rules established by any other side in any war are to be broken." He paced.

"We have our own rules here at Pegasus Lair, and one of them is you must _never_ go soft. We're here to understand how to fight, how to draw blood, how to withhold any emotion for your enemies. No pity, no justice, nothing. And we have learned how to take which is not ours and to make it ours, to take what we want, whatever we want, whenever we want."

Hermione and Ron were tense on either side of Harry. All three moved closer together.

"You're either with us or you're not," Nott continued. "All here or not at all, which means you have to _give your all_ to get the right result. So. It's time to see real brutality, and none of you," he pointed around, "close your eyes."

Then he turned and gestured to Malfoy, who moved opposite him a few metres away. Harry was closest to Nott, and from where he stood Harry could see Nott's naked shoulder and some of his neck and jaw; all of which were, Harry was shocked to see, extremely scarred. It was white and a bit red in places, a splotchy, lumpy surface that seemed to greatly disfigure Nott; very possibly a burn injury.

Nott and Malfoy got into combat positions.

Then they flew at each other. Harry had a glimpse of Nott's right eye as he ran - his hair fell away from his face a bit - and Harry saw the completely black reflective orb that was his eye.

Then Malfoy was high-kicking Nott from the side, which Nott was blocking, and with a small battle cry Nott back-slapped Malfoy with his right hand. As Nott had the same razored gloves as Malfoy, the blades skinned Malfoy's jaw, and blood splattered to the floor. Malfoy aimed a punch at Nott's stomach, but Nott caught his arms, twisted him and pinned his wrists to his lower back, holding him there, both gasping.

Hermione shuddered. "You see that?" demanded Nott to his audience, showcasing Malfoy's bloodied jaw. "This is only a small part of what all of you will go through. You're here to rip people apart, gut them, smash them to pieces."

Malfoy elbowed Nott hard, and as Nott doubled over, Malfoy elbowed him again between the shoulder blades, and Nott grunted. Then he groaned when Malfoy kicked up into his stomach.

When Nott tried to stand up, Malfoy kicked him in the back, and Nott fell on his knees with a grunt. There was a change in the air - everyone was tense yet excited, and Harry see spots of blood on the blue mats. Malfoy grabbed Nott's hair, forcing him to look up. Nott's right eye was almost visible through the curtain of his dark brown hair. It glistened while his left eye stared at Malfoy's closed face darkly.

"This is a great example," Malfoy said softly, "of how you should never offer your throat to the enemy." With his free fist, he slowly slid one blade across Nott's exposed throat.

Then he stood upright, Nott doing the same. With the duel over, people started talking amoungst themselves. Luna ran into the ring, and immediately went to Malfoy, touching his jaw. He flinched away, turning a bit, but Luna insisted, healing his face without a wand, but with her hands.

With the small turn, Harry had a view of Malfoy's back. There were a few leather straps and the back of his corset covering it, but with some of his bare skin visible, Harry could make out a large tattoo of a dragon.

Its clawed paws gripped Malfoy's arms just below his shoulders. The wings spread out over his shoulder blades, and its rough-looking snout curled half-way around his neck. The small black beady eyes stared at Harry malevolently.

"The Muggles are here," Nott growled suddenly. And sure enough, a moment later, Grabbe and Goyle came back, with four others chained together by the wrists like prisoners.

Which they were, because they were the Muggles Quan had suggested using for combat training, was that not what Boot had said? And one of them was Dudley. Harry stared. They were blinking and staring around blindly, completely confused.

Harry stepped up to Nott angrily, who had recovered from his injuries, thanks to Luna. "What do you think you're doing?" Harry hissed at him.

Calmly he answered, "Wait and see."

Nott's clothes were so tight that Harry had nothing to grab onto except for Nott's hair. So he did, Nott struggled immediately, and it was an effort to hold on just because Nott was so tall, but Harry was very pissed off, and pulled harder just to cause him pain. "Send them back."

"No." They were being untied. "You scared?"

Harry stared him in the eye. "Hardly. But this is taking it too far."

Malfoy came over and attempted to pry them apart. With Malfoy's hands suddenly on him, Harry felt a bit hotter and weaker, and let go of Nott's hair.

"I want another fight," Malfoy told Nott.

"And you'll get it," said Nott, as he ran hands through his own hair and down his body.

"I mean," Malfoy murmured dangerously, "_I_ want to fight. With _him._" For a second Harry thought Malfoy was referring to him, but then Malfoy looked past Harry and at Quan.

"Go ahead," Harry put in hotly, "I have no objections." He hated Quan now, for the suggestion of forcing Muggles into wizard combat.

Malfoy suddenly looked at him, his expression surprised, before it smoothed over again. "Like I need _your_ permission, Potter," he sneered.

"Glad to hear it," Harry shot back. "Hate for you to be _weak_."

"Fuck off back to your groupies, Potter, I'm busy." He directed his attention to Quan. "Hey Chang," Malfoy shouted across the room, "got anything original to show us or are you still a dirty slut like your sister?"

A few people gasped and, sensing a fight, moved to the side as Quan walked over the Malfoy, his expression thunderous.

He came so close to Malfoy they were nose to nose. Malfoy appeared unfazed. "Got something to say Malfoy?"

"I said," Malfoy forced at length, "that the skank gene runs in the Chang family. Wouldn't you agree?"

"You can say whatever you want about me, Malfoy," Quan bit out, his voice husky with anger, "but don't you dare say lying shit like that about my sister."

"Not just a river in Egypt," Malfoy murmured. Louder, and with a shove, "Get out of my face, Chang."

Quan punched him in the face. Malfoy countered with an uppercut that ripped Quan's chest.

Quan was Ron's trainer in his weapon, which were double blades - shorter than swords, but much longer than daggers. Two menacing blades were strapped to Quan's upper arms, and to extract them, Quan crossed his arms, grabbed the hilts in each hand, and when he uncrossed his arms, the blades came loose of their straps in a single slicing movement.

And then Malfoy was punching, and Quan was diverting Malfoy's blades with swipes of his own, then Quan kicked up, Malfoy flew into the air with a grunt.

He landed on his feet, just, and in a split second he shot out his right hand, palm facing outwards, and a silver burst of magic appeared there, growing from his palm and round, glistening yet surrounded by mist.

It shot out in a crystallized blast, Quan crossed his arms to block but it still hit him and he slid backwards a few paces, still on his feet.

With Quan distracted, Malfoy ran at him, then leapt into the air, high, but Quan was ready. He walked under Malfoy, shot his arm up and suddenly there was thunder and lightning in the room, the jagged shards of light hitting Malfoy, who gasped. But Quan was not done. As Malfoy fell, he swiped his blades in a Chinese butterfly move that ripped at Malfoy's neck, chest and armour. Malfoy hit the floor and slumped to his knees.

Keeping his eyes on Quan as Quan ran at him, he pushed his hand out and up, and when it came down again, razor-sharp icicles were thrown at Quan, and he was hit square on. Quan cried out, small pinpricks of blood ribboning down his face, neck and arms.

Malfoy got up and kicked Quan several times in the chest, each kick deliberate and paced, until Quan fell on his backside. Malfoy standing over him, raised an arm for a final blow -

But he was stopped, as a chain had shot out and had wrapped itself securely around his raised fist and wrist.

On the other end of that chain was Parkinson, looking aloof, but with an obvious excited sparkle in her eye. "I think you've made your point, Draco. You're hogging all the fun for yourself." The chain untangled from Malfoy and returned to her easily. "Nice Ice Element, by the way," she added.

He smirked. "They don't call me the Ice Dragon for nothing."

Quan got up and Luna went over to heal him.

Someone was clapping. Nott came over to the middle of the circle, looking bored. "Yes yes, very nice. Can we play Kill The Muggle now?"

Parkinson stepped in, gesturing to get everyone's attention. Most people watched her avidly, hungry for another show. But Hermione was still tense and upset, and Harry was very apprehensive.

"I'm going to demonstrate why wizards are superior to Muggles," Parkinson explained. "Though why some people don't believe this truth, I'll never know.

"Muggles are weak, cannot do magic, rely on strengths given to them and cannot harness outside power." She made a gesture to the back where Crabbe, Goyle and the Muggles stood, and the two large wizards grabbed the largest Muggle and walked him slowly over. "It's time to show all of you what this war is really about - us, not them, they are merely obstacles which insist on getting in the way. The Dark Lord's wish to kill them is an insult to us as a magical people," here she stopped and sneered, glancing around. "We as a magical race should look down at them as a nuisance, a race not to bother with, as insignificant as the unmagical dog or a cat they insist on keeping as pets.

"But yet the Dark Lord thinks it is worth his time to destroy them all. Do you see the irony?" she hissed. "That by given them such attention, he is making them significant, drawing unneeded attention to them as if they are worth more than their lands we take from them whenever we want, without them so much as noticing a blade of grass out of place."

"What about the parents who have magical children?" shouted Hermione indignantly. "Is that not worth something?"

Parkinson nodded, smiling menacingly. "Possibly all they're really worth, but even then, there is a flaw, because Mudbloods tend to have diluted magic in their blood."

"Shut up, Parkinson," Harry growled, "or I'll hit you so hard you won't know the difference between a wizard and a potato."

There was a murmur of agreement from many of the crowd, though some were hesitant in their disagreements.

"If you can't handle the truth, Potter, well…" She waved her hand in a bored, dismissive motion. "This is war, anyway. Let me show you how it's done." With that she turned and acknowledged the bulky Muggle in faded clothes, standing near her, looking around in disgust.

He was large, with pulsing tight limbs as wide as his fat head, and muscles so grand Harry suspected he had been pumped with steroids. "Witches," he hissed.

Pansy Parkinson was only half his height, and she was so slim compared to him it appeared as if all No-Name had to do was grab her waist in his fist and snap her in half.

No-Name growled loudly as he inhaled and exhaled. "Sinful," he grumbled, "_witches!_"

Harry held onto Hermione's hand and squeezed.

Parkinson lifted her arms up to the side and chains shot out from her wrists. She started flicking them around in unsynchronized circles, like whips.

She threw out and started to whip the Muggle with the sharp silver chains, hitting him and leaving welts, as he grunted in pain.

He threw his arms in front and let and outraged cry, stomping blindly towards her. She withdrew her whipping, and instead aimed both the whips at his thick neck. They circled him instantly, and he choked, grabbing the chains, pulled at them, which jogged Parkinson, though she stayed on her feet.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Harry shouted. He stepped forward, dragging Hermione with him. She yelped at his hard grip. "You're going to choke him!" he added.

"Stay back," Parkinson gasped as No-Name stumbled around, dragging her with him.

Suddenly she jumped up and lessoned the chains, landing on the Muggle's stomach, digging her boots into hard muscle. Now her whole body was standing horizontally parallel to the floor; the chains holding her to the wall which was the Muggle, and her feet digging into flesh. She was breathing fast and loud, her eyes squinting as if she was concentrating really hard. All her muscles were taut.

"Anytime this week would be good," Malfoy pushed her.

"Alright." Her whining voice was rough due to lack of breath. She let go of the left chain, putting a lot of strain on the right one. She shook her left wrist and her wand slid from another compartment in her glove, and she grabbed it as it slid into her palm.

And then there was blue magical energy circling her fists, sharp, jagged-like energy that snaked its way around the one chain and down. She took a deep breath and murmured an incantation: "_Petrificus elemental._"

The slow lightning energy hit at the same time as the spell and together, Harry knew, they had fused to make an altogether stronger spell.

The Muggle froze, erect, stagnant like a stone statue, with crackling energy buzzing around him. He fell backwards with a loud thump that shook the room, Parkinson landing feet first atop him.

She withdrew her chains easily and stepped off, looking grim.

Nott and Malfoy went up to her. "Your Joint Element was delayed," Malfoy told her scornfully, "and you took too long establishing your position. You could have _really _choked him to death."

Parkinson lowered her head sadly.

"But," Nott announced loudly so everyone could hear, "it was under two minutes, which goes to show even the unpracticed can defeat the strongest Muggles quickly."

Ron turned away. "I think I've had enough," he muttered darkly.

"It's lunchtime anyway," Seamus put in from nearby. "Thank God; I'm starving!"

"Who can eat after that?" asked Hermione rhetorically.

Harry watched Malfoy out the corner of his eye, and felt as if the worst was yet to come.

"Holding people hostage for the Blood Charm was one thing," Harry said to Cho after lunch, "but that's where I draw the line."

"Well, if that's how you feel," she replied softly.

They were dueling with their swords. Cho was assigned to educate Harry with sword fighting techniques, and they often stopped so Cho could direct him properly, demonstrating, holding his hand and guiding the slicing through the air.

"It's refreshing though," she added as she stepped back. "This is often a good starting position, like this."

Harry tried to copy her. "What do you mean?"

"Well," she crouched a little, bending her knees, ready to spring, "it's refreshing to have someone like you around here. You're the only person who hasn't seen the worst of it."

Harry straightened and narrowed his eyes. "Haven't seen the worst of it? Are you kidding? I've seen two of my friends murdered in the last two years!"

"Yes but - concentrate Harry - you haven't been to any of our raids; haven't seen Hogsmeade ruined or Diagon Alley fall down before your very eyes." She shook her head miserably and straightened as well. "Your parents didn't come home to tell you their office was burnt down, or hear that your uncle has gone missing…"

She sighed. "So," she continued, glancing away, "everyone here has seen something that they want to fix, you know? It's like, they'd give up _anything_ to get our world back."

Her brother may have thought up a good plan, but Harry still did not agree with it, regardless of what Quan had seen.

Harry nodded. "But for a month I was isolated, and didn't see any of it."

Cho bit her lip. "Yeah."

"Potter."

Harry turned around. Artemis Moon, the extremely tall girl with that strange, deep monotone voice was standing a little ways off.

"Yeah?"

"Occlumency." She had always said very little, and her expression never changed from the blank stare she kept.

Harry turned back around. "I'm busy."

"Now," said Moon, and Harry heard her walk away.

There was a pause and then, "Harry, you should go with her."

He clenched his jaw, not wanted to leave his lesson with Cho, because it meant he would have to attend an extremely stressful magical session.

Finding no real excuse to stay, he reluctantly followed Moon, until she went into an empty classroom.

Moon shut the door behind Harry, and faced him. She had long, straight silver hair down to her hips, with a fringe. She was about the same build as her best friend Nott - very tall and very skinny, and a severance about her that mirrored Nott too. Her face was very pale, but in a harsh, firm way that was not delicate, and allowed no real expression to form except for perhaps the smallest of subtleties.

There was a silver-white kitten on her shoulder, and she picked it up and dropped it to the floor. Then she slowly parted her pink lips.

Her amber eyes burned into his. "I was told you were taught in the art of Occlumency and that you practice it by yourself often." Her mouth had barely moved as she spoke.

Harry nodded, wary.

"Good." Her arm came up and she pointed a finger at him. "_Legilimens._"

Surprise hit Harry and he flicked out his wand and cast _Protego_ as quick as he could. The spell still got through, however, and he was suddenly stunned by the flood of memories. There was the one with Aunt Marge's bull dog, chasing him, and then there was the memory of him and Hermione flying to Sirius's window on Buckbeak's back. Then there was one where Dudley had locked Harry outside the house and it was a few hours before Aunt Petunia let him back inside. There were a few other images from his childhood, flicking one after the other like a slide screen.

When his vision cleared, he got up off the floor. Moon was still staring, and Harry got the feeling she was disappointed.

"They told me you had trained before," she said.

"I have."

"Either Snape was lazy or you are just bad at this branch of magic."

"He hates me."

She said nothing at this. Then she pointed her finger at him again. "_Legilimens._"

He was prepared this time, but it still hit him. These memories were of Sirius; their arguments, mostly, and then there was the Veil, with its black curtains flowing coldly.

Harry pulled himself out quickly, and got onto his feet. He flushed a little bit, because he knew she could see the images.

Something in her expression had changed. Her face and stance had not moved, but a second later Harry noticed that her eyes were moving, just a little bit, in the smallest of movements. She was thinking.

Finally she said, "No more wands."

He blinked. "What?"

"You're relying on a protection spell to shield you, but at the same time it fogs your concentration. Put your wand away."

He did, reluctantly. They stared at each other.

"Think of something solid," she instructed, "that you know can shield you from anything. Like a brick wall or a thick fog. Now make that a symbol of great mental strength that can protect you from any intruders."

Harry thought about it. He thought about the thick bricks that made up the Hogwarts castle, and knew that those walls protected him, so he imagined one side of the Great Hall.

"_Legilimens._"

The wall threw itself up in his mind. It vibrated and grated as her spell hit it, trying to get through. Then suddenly it stopped. The wall, exhausted, faded.

"Good."

He looked up at her curiously. "Did you learn to do wandless Legilimency this way?"

"No," she said instantly, unmoved by the question. "I'm a Psych Element specialist; I was born with the power. _Legilimens._"

It hit him again and he blocked it, but it was exhausting work. So when she cast it again, the wall crumbled in his mind and she was able to extract his memories.

And they were very personal.

Sirius, and their love making, flashed in his mind and he hated to see it, and hated that _she_ was seeing it. There was bare flesh and the feeling of it, and somewhere under it all he could smell it too.

His heart quenched and beat faster, and a magic from inside swelled and pumped through his blood, and out, thrusting itself right at Moon.

It got to her, and then it was her memories he was seeing.

They came and went quickly, but they were painful to watch regardless of the speed.

First there was an image of a small girl in a white robe, struggling, and held by the strong hands of many men as her wrist was cut. They drained the blood into a vial. Then it went to the memory of an older Artemis Moon, who entered a house and pointed her wand at an old man sitting in his armchair. He was killed before he could exclaim a protest. It was her again in the next memory, bowing down to Voldemort's feet and kissing the hem of his dirt sodden robes. But the last memory was the worst of all.

She was a little girl this time, very small, topless. She struggled and cried while being forced down onto her stomach on a stone altar by men. And there, protruding from her shoulder blades were two grey feathered wings. There was the glint of silver, then they were sliced off, blood running over her back and shoulders.

Darkness filled Harry's mind. When he came to he was lying on his back on the floor. He got up and stared at her. She stared back nonchalantly, as if Harry had seen nothing of her memories at all.

"You had wings," Harry croaked stupidly.

"Yes."

"How? I mean - why?"

"I'm a Halfblood. It matters little." She suddenly stooped and picked up her kitten, who had been scratching around the room all throughout the time they were there. It meowed. "Diana and I shall leave now." She turned. "Same time tomorrow."

When the door opened Malfoy was standing there. Moon passed him and disappeared.

"Well, how was it?" Malfoy's smug smile made his usually sharp cheekbones a little softer. A strand of silver hair had fallen and it curled into one of his grey eyes.

Harry smoothed down his robe with sweaty palms. "Fine. Listen," he came up to Malfoy, "she said she was a Halfblood. What is she, exactly?"

Malfoy clicked his tongue and walking out the room, Harry following. They walked down the corridor, Harry's eyes watching Malfoy's guarded profile. "She's half harpy, half witch."

"And her wings are part of her harpy side?"

Malfoy's eyes darted to Harry then back in front again. "They were cut off when she was young so nobody would know that Celeste Moon isn't her real father."

Harry thought about his dream he had had that morning. "But Voldemort knows, doesn't he?"

"Anyone who has studied the culture of harpies can tell she is one, even without the wings." He sniggered and looked at Harry. "Honestly Potter, just look at her eyes."

The inhuman amber. But there were plenty of wizards and witches with strange physical traits; did that mean they had magical creature DNA in them?

"Her mother was raped," Malfoy continued, "by a royal harpy. Then Moon came along and married her, even though she was pregnant. He thought he could protect them by joining the Death Eaters but," Malfoy looked away, "Artemis is in too deep for him to pull her out."

Harry stopped and turned to Malfoy, his eyes wide. It was not that he particularly cared for the girl, but Malfoy seemed almost in the mood to talk. "What do you mean?"

"No comment."

Harry put his hands on Malfoy's shoulders and turned him. "C'mon, Malfoy."

Malfoy grabbed one of Harry's hands from his own shoulder and linked their fingers. "She'll be alright; she'll just be taken to a Sector to live."

"What -"

But Malfoy had brought up his other hand, and his index finger was placed on Harry's lips to silence him. "Why don't you," Malfoy murmured as he trailed his finger down over Harry's chin and neck, moving his face in close, "stop worrying about everyone else," the finger was trailing down his chest and Harry felt himself flush, "and just concentrate on saving the world, hmm, Gryffindor?"

To Be Continued.


	6. The Amber Pendant

**Paper Flowers**  
By dented-sky   
Rated R

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter Six - The Amber Pendant

In my field of paper flowers  
And candy clouds of lullaby  
I lie inside myself for hours  
- Imaginary (Evanescence)

He was a soldier of course, in a war he couldn't win  
But without him I'm lost, so I stood by his side and went down with him  
He would always tell me, "I know you're afraid but you can't leave me now  
"Lean on my shoulder, soon it'll be over  
"I'm trying to build our future; I'm doing this for us  
"You're the only one I love; the only one I trust"  
- The Only One I Trust (City High)

I love you in a place where there's no space or time  
And when my life is over remember when we were together  
Because we're alone  
- Song for You (City High)

Across from Harry was the fierce structure of Blaise Zabini, wearing her uniform of high legwarmers, shorts, thick gloves, and a tight purple lycra turtleneck under her corset.

She threw her silver chains at him, and he sliced them away with his sword, letting the clean cut of metal on metal clink loudly through the room. She swiped again at his head, and with the other hand threw a blast of Gravity Element, which threw him off his feet in a wave of black magic.

He grunted and got straight up, only to realize too late that she had thrown both her chains at him. He crossed his arms in the sign of an X, the physical shield he knew to protect his chest, and the chains circled around and gripped, hard.

He gasped, and Zabini let out a bark of laughter. With her grip on the other end of the chains, she pulled a little, making the wound chains tighten painfully. Harry exhaled, but kept a good grip on the hilt of his sword.

"C'mon, Potter!" Zabini crowed. "You can do better than that!" She pulled again, and the chains dug in further. With his armour on, his skin was not broken, but the crushing of his flesh and the grinding of his bones was enough for his concentration to filter into drips and drabbles through the pain.

She pulled again, and Harry groaned. "Think!" she demanded. "Which Elements can you work, and which would be best for this situation?"

It had been a couple of weeks since Harry's first training in the Elemental Arts, and he was also much finer with the sword and self defence. Now he got private tuition from different Pegasus Lair residents, filling his days with hard and expansive workouts.

Harry narrowed his eyes and focused his pain into magical energy. He silently asked the Earth for a piece of storm, and brought the outside Element into himself. The crackling energy filled him up in sharp sparks like metal nails falling into a glass, and then he pushed it through his arms and hands.

The Lightning, blue and silver, sizzled from his skin and struck the chains, then travelled along them fast like an electrical transmission. It hit Zabini hard, she cried out, loosening the chains around Harry's arms. He shook them off, then ran at her with his sword raised.

"Stop!" Luna shouted from the side. He did as he was told, and he let her come up to him and take his armoured gauntlets off. Zabini and Harry watched as Luna put her hands on his reddened skin. A soft green glow escaped from under her palms and the redness and pain receded.

Zabini nodded to Harry, smirking. "She's a specialist in the Heal Element. Destined to be a Healer, innit."

"I choose my own destiny," Luna said softly.

"Are you a specialist in anything?" Harry asked Zabini.

She rolled her eyes. "Yah, Gravity, innit? Nobody has it better than me."

He turned to her and faced her properly, curious. "How can I find out which Element I'd be good at?"

"Practice, mate, practice. Although…" She brought a finger to her lips and tapped them thoughtfully, cocking her dark head to the side. "I'd say you were a Death specialist, with those eyes the colour they are."

"I think so too," Luna put in. "But don't look so scared, Harry, you probably could have more than one specialized Element up your sleave."

Zabini grimaced.

"I am a Water specialist too," Luna told him, though she was not boasting, just stating a fact.

Zabini, not to be outdone, squinted in concentration, much like Tonks would when changing. Then she jumped up into the air, and stayed there, floating.

"See? Gravity Element."

Harry stepped back. "Okay," he said, "one more spar." He raised his sword.

In the underground Gryffindor dormitories, Hermione was holding a mirror with one hand, and putting make-up on with the other. Harry lay on her bed and watched.

"Do you want some, Harry?" she asked after a moment of wrestling with the eyeliner pencil.

Harry shook his head, smiling.

She looked at him. "Could be fun."

He shook his head again, and looked over to the other side of the room, where many people were gathering around Seamus's bed.

"Come ye, come ye," he joked, "come ye and see thy magic change even the most frumpy into something worth a snog." Seamus stepped back and brandished his wand, then pointed it to the clothes lying on his bed. "_Substeren!_" The clothes wiggled and shimmered, and changed into something else. There were gasps from the others and someone clapped.

Then he waved his wand and they flew over to Harry. "No more baggy clothes, my friend! Time for something appealing for once!"

Harry picked them up and looked at them. They were just jeans and a red shirt, and he hoped they were harmless.

A little while later, he and his friends gathered around the door to the party room. There was, as usual, a great scramble to the chocolate and beer.

"Jeeeeezus, Mary and Joseph," exclaimed Seamus, "I sure did a good job on you!"

The jeans and shirt Harry was forced to wear were tight, and Harry would not stop blushing at Seamus's constant leering. Ron elbowed Seamus away.

"Wow," breathed Parvati, "Hermione's wearing make-up!"

"She is?" Ron exclaimed, looking over at Harry to peer into her face. "Ohhh, so she is."

"Glad you noticed, Ron." Hermione was good at sarcasm when it came to Ron Weasley.

They got their drugs and entered the dark room eventually, but not before Harry saw Malfoy get a good view of that night's attire.

Ron slung his arm around Harry's shoulders and Harry had an arm around Hermione's waist. All three were on a high, enjoying the loud pumping of music through the room like blood through their veins, and the flickering of light once again gave the feel of strobe lights in a Muggle club. They hung around with many different groups, laughing and dancing.

It was about an hour later when things took a turn. Parkinson and Zabini had gotten hold of the stage in the middle of the room once again, and were enjoying themselves immensely, when they suddenly both froze up, twin looks of horror hitting their faces like snow thrown at ice.

Harry saw Moon and Nott leave, followed by a few more Sytherins, until all the Dragon League was gone, and everyone else in a mild panic.

Not once since Harry had been at Pegasus Lair did Voldemort call his followers until after midnight, and he had the feeling that something was different this time; something was definitely wrong.

He ran after them.

They had gathered outside on the oval, talking quietly amongst themselves. He felt the chill of the night air against the bare parts of his body, and only then, as he stood staring at the cluster of Slytherins, did he notice that others had followed him.

Ron grabbed his arm. "What's going on?"

Harry shook it off. "Something's not right this time; I can feel it."

"Something wicked this way comes." Hermione muttered the old song. All three tensed up.

Harry took a deep breath and walked over to the group. They quietened when they saw him, and made room for him as he walked straight up to Malfoy.

Malfoy, predictably, was smoking. "What's going to happen?" Harry demanded.

Something flickered in Malfoy's cold eyes. "Nothing," he said softly. "Just the usual routine. And I ask you now," Malfoy added as he looked at Harry meaningfully, "to stay well away."

Malfoy took a drag from his cigarette and Harry grabbed his arm. "I know something's up, you have to tell me, or I'll follow you."

Malfoy looked surprised.

Harry nodded. "I'll follow you, I will."

The other lifted his hand and grazed Harry's cheek with cold fingers. "You can't." There it was: a small, sad smile on Malfoy's lips.

He looked up to his fellow Death Eaters and they all Apparated, the sound of their combined spell echoing across the field. Little did Harry flinch from it, as he was suddenly very cold and very unaware of anything else other than growing fear for Malfoy.

It was then that nearly everyone had wandered outside, relishing the fresh air. There were about twenty metres away from Harry, and he was staring at the spot where Malfoy had just stood a moment ago.

Something was ticking in his mind, a mixture of thought and feeling he had felt once before. He knew he should be wiser this time, knowing that the last time Sirius had… left. His mind was getting the familiar cloudiness of emotion and misjudgement, so he blinked several times, took a deep breath, and pushed it all down to the pit of his stomach.

Then he looked over his shoulder. None looking, so he strode, fast, across the field.

Until he got to the rusted shed, sure that no one had notice him leave.

He opened the door and stood, looking in. Two thestrals were resting. He hoped they were ready for flight, as he could not Apparate because he had no idea where Malfoy had gone. If the thestrals were good at finding locations, surely they could find a person.

One squeeze to the earring on his lobe transformed him into a warrior. The sword was strapped to his back and he unsheathed it, then placed the blade on his left palm. He clenched his jaw as the blade sliced through, drawing a line of blood. As he sheathed his sword with his right hand he made a fist with his left to squeeze more blood out, then he went in and gently patted the first thestral to wake it up.

"Here," he whispered, offering his bloodied palm for the tired thestral to lick. "I need a favour. Can you please take me to Draco Malfoy?"

The winged horse licked all the blood away and sniffed for more. Harry walked out and it followed, stamping its feet noisily.

"I know what you're planning to do."

Harry spun around and faced Luna. She was smiling, her eyes bright, hair falling over her shoulders, and she was already in her uniform. He took another deep breath.

"Going to try and stop me, are you?"

"Only if you don't let me come with you." She blinked and walked lightly inside the shed to summon the other thestral.

He walked to the doorway and leaned against the metal frame. "Do you know what's going on? With the Dragon League, that is."

"I heard them talking about sacrifices to ensure alliances with different Sectors," she told him as she walked out with the second thestral.

Harry frowned. "Sector?" He had heard Malfoy mention it a couple of weeks ago.

"Oh dear, you don't know," she murmured as she patted the scaly creature. She turned her head to face him side-on, her eyes peeking from under her lashes. "Sectors are just sections of the magical world. They hover away from non-magical creature's eyes, including Muggles, of course. Not always run under wizarding law."

He tried to process this, but it was almost too big to comprehend.

"Where else did you think magical creatures lived? Surely not forests cultivated by Muggles, though some werewolf covens have been known to like Muggle areas."

"We're wasting time," Harry said, and he hoisted himself up on the thestral's back, slid down to hug its neck. Luna got on hers and secured her position. "To Draco Malfoy," Harry commanded, and the muscles in its back moved, its legs crouched, and in one swift movement it bolted through the air and into the night.

There was the loud, hissing rush of air pass his ears as he sped through the dark. Luna caught up to fly beside him; her light hair flying behind her like the frothy waves on the ocean, and her eyes shining in manic glee. Every second the wings beat with a _whoop_, up and down, and over the lands they went, the earth below looking as small as if the trees and hills were merely children's toys.

They passed through an unidentified barrier. It was magic, Harry knew, but he did not understand why he had felt the rush of passing from one side to the other, like walking through a thin screen of water. All he knew was that the other side was darker and the air thicker, even though they were flying high. In the distance stood a large stone castle fort; foreboding and standing in shadow. Closer inspection showed Harry it was crumbling in places, some of the roof missing and plant life growing up the walls and over.

Harry signalled to Luna, and they ordered their thestrals to land near the bottom of the hill. They got off, stretched, and stared up the grassy hill to Voldemort's castle.

Luna turned and smiled vacantly at Harry. "Scared?"

Harry took a deep breath. "It's what we've been preparing for."

"Oh absolutely," she said happily.

The grass was long and reached to their knees. Crickets chirped in the distance as they made their slow walk up the hill.

They started to climb the solid wall as soon as they arrived. They had scanned the immediate walls to see if there were any holes, and had decided a view from above was probably their best bet. Then they had charmed themselves to feel lighter than they were, for a quick and painless ascend.

At the top Harry's latest suspicion was confirmed: most of the roof had gone; either caved in (stone blocks could be seen scattered on the floor below), or possibly weathered away and into the surrounding area. They were on the top of the wall of one of the highest rooms. To the left was another room that appeared, from where Harry crouched, to be mostly caved in. Across was another room they could not see into from where they stood, but there was a large hole in the wall, and he could hear someone talking.

Harry knew that voice. That horrible male's voice, whose tenor was quite high and his Ss drawn out in long hisses.

Harry concentrated on blocking his mind. The mental wall went up instantly, and he thanked himself for practicing so hard in the last few weeks.

Their cloaks, Harry's robe and Luna's blue skirt flapped behind them in the wind. He signalled for her to keep quiet, to stay low, and follow him to the right. They stood, but kept their knees bent and heads low as they moved across the narrow path to the right, then up to the edge of the next room. The walls stretched down below them, and beside them was some of the wooden construction of the roof which had not yet departed. It provided a good cover for them, if they stayed low in the corner, amongst the shadows.

And they stared.

It was the circle of Death Eaters Harry noticed first, much like the congregation he had witnessed in the graveyard in his fourth year, but so, so much wider and full of people. The black robes, their hoods and the white masks hid the worshippers' identities. Around them on the ground and floating in the air were red candles, shining yellow light, brightening up the tomblike room. There was something different about them - no longer the scattered group that wandered into the grave yard a little over a year ago, but an organized assemblage of high class warriors.

The circle only broke once, near the far side of the room; the gap parallel to the hole in the wall on the other side. Lord Voldemort walked through a doorway, and passed through the gap in the circle. The corners of the room were dark and anonymous. Silence lapsed in deafening waves.

For what felt like his first time, Harry felt true fear.

He had felt fear before; when faced with Voldemort in his first year, down below the castle, for example. But that fear came from lack of control over the situation…

Tom Riddle had kept his snakelike red eyes, but that was the only think that had not changed. Every part of him had grown: his eyes were larger and focused, his nose small and straight, his lips full and curved into a confidant smile. His skin was no longer scaly, but a smooth, dark brown, and he had grown his hair, black and flowing over his shoulders.

The fear Harry felt by the sight of Voldemort was born from intimidation.

He truly looked magnificent in all his evil glory. He walked into the room and an invisible power brought all attention on him and nowhere else. His followers stood sharp and silent like statues, and Voldemort glided around the space, looking at each one, passionate eyes taking in every detail.

The silence was broken by a sound from above. It was the _woopwoopwoop_ of large wings beating against the air.

Voldemort finally stood still and looked up into the sky, his expression calm, his voluptuous black and green robes billowing around him in the breeze. The Death Eaters made no move, and neither did Harry.

The noise hit a climax and then stopped abruptly as two white beings landed and stood in the only space in the circle. They were tall, and their wings were broad, but Harry could not help feeling that they were rather dull looking for flying beings; their hair was silver and their wings grey, and their faces wore vacant, bored expressions.

The Dark Lord spread his arms and smiled in greeting, though his smile was a humourless twist of the lips, portraying power and control. He walked forward, and bowed his head, just a little. The two winged beings bowed in reply.

"Dark Lord," began the male of the two winged beings, "we are here to negotiate an alliance. Remember this: your last attempt was nay plausible." The man, draped in white, had a non-committed tone to his voice, as if he were speaking offhand. "Our kind seldom associates with wizards. Filled with the slaughter of your kind, our history tells us. We see no reason to be here, but alas, no princess finds our door. We need that one favour."

Voldemort kept his malicious smile as his lips formed around one word. "Artemis."

Immediately one Death Eater came forward from the circle and bowed down in front of their leader. Harry saw long dainty pale hands emerge from beneath the sleeves to lift up the hem of Voldemort's robes to kiss. "Master," she said.

"Stand and present yourself, my dear."

As Artemis took her mask off and slipped down the hood of her robe, Harry risked whispering very quietly in Luna's ear. "What are they?"

"Harpies," Luna whispered back.

"They don't look like harpies." Harpies appeared as half-women, half-bird creatures, which screeched and were considered very bad tempered. These creatures, however, had smooth skin and were mild mannered.

"Royal harpies. High-ranking harpies."

Artemis walked slowly towards the pair, her long silver hair flowing down her back. As she stood in front of them, Harry realized she really was one of their breed. The female harpy lifted up her hands steadily and ran them over the girl; head, face and shoulders. "A half Royal?" the she-harpy inquired of Voldemort.

"Her pure-blood mother was raped by a Royal during one of your mating seasons."

"Cor!" exclaimed the male Royal harpy. "Such a beautiful rarity. Perfect for our needs."

"For our son, almost perfect," murmured the she-harpy. "To have a witch in the family. New horizons, my friend." She tilted Artemis's chin up with a finger. "Wings, she has not."

"Removed when she was a child," Voldemort explained. "They can, of course, be grown back."

"They will have to," said the King Harpy. "Only then can she marry our son."

The Queen looked at her new princess. "Painful, it will be."

"Any pain for my Master," Artemis replied.

It was then, during the strange conversation, that Luna suddenly grabbed Harry's arm and squeezed. He looked over her head, and sucked in a panicked breath.

Hovering nearby, in the air, was a low-ranking harpy, whose large amber eyes were staring right at them. It tilted its head and scrutinised Harry unabashedly.

The Queen below them gave a loud, piercing screech, and the harpy turned from them and flew to her Queen. Another flew from the opposite side and landed also, so they flanked their royalty like guards.

The Queen suddenly grabbed Artemis roughly and held the girl in her arms. Something had changed in the air; the power play between Voldemort and the Queen had shifted. Voldemort's expression was hard while the harpies' faces were constantly blank. "Our spies, I hope you don't mind," said the Queen. "Wizards, we cannot trust. But the girl, we will take."

Voldemort took a step. "Then the alliance is met?"

"No," said the Queen. "Marry, the Halfling must. If she is in our family, then she will secure the alliance. We shall leave now."

"NO!" someone suddenly exclaimed from the circle. One of the figures stumbled out and continued, "Don't go! Don't leave, not yet!"

All eyes were on Theodore Nott as he took off his mask and hood. Voldemort was furious.

"How dare you step out of line!"

But Nott only ignored him, to the delight of the Queen, no doubt, and passed him to get to Artemis. He grabbed her hands - her arms still gripped by the Queen's long hands - and begged her not to go.

"Ted," said Moon serenely, "it is my duty."

"No," Nott moaned, his face hidden by his hair. He planted rapid little kisses all over her face.

"I thought your followers were loyal," murmured the Queen.

"This is one of our newer recruits," Voldemort muttered through gritted teeth. "He tends to get passionate at the worst of times."

Nott tried to pry the Queen's arms away. As soon as his fingers were laid on her skin, she snarled, her serene face completely transformed to something hideous in one quick second. In response the harpy next to her shot out an ugly, feathered arm and shoved Nott away. "Touch the Queen, you may not," the harpy hissed in her deep, grating voice.

The Death Eaters were becoming restless; there was a shuffling and rustling of robes between them. Another come forward to the centre of the circle and took off their mask and hood. Harry's heart skipped a beat when he saw that it was Draco Malfoy, standing up straight and tall and defiant.

He put his arms on Nott's trembling shouldersHT

, and whispered something in his ear.

Malfoy suddenly bowed. "I apologize, Master, for Nott's terrible behaviour."

Voldemort's red angry eyes turned on him. "_Did I permit you to speak? Did I tell you to leave the circle?_"

Malfoy got up again and turned away, his hands finding Nott's shoulders once more.

The Queen had regained her composure, and was staring and the two boys in front of her. "They defy you, Dark Lord. If you only knew who they really are… our prophets talk about them often. The Ice Dragon and the One-Eyed Eagle." She looked up at Voldemort. "Best you not lose them, friend, power they have much of."

"How I deal with my followers is my concern and mine alone," Voldemort sneered.

"This meeting is over," the King announced. "The princess will ensure our alliance, if that is her wish."

The Queen gave Moon over to one of her servants, who gripped her tight. Nott watched her with one sad, unblinking eye.

"Don't go," Nott tried one last time.

The five figures shot into the air, Moon in the arms of one of the harpies. Nott stared up at them as they started to drift away, and then broke away from Malfoy, ran fast through the room and broke through the circle of Death Eaters. His eyes were following the harpies as they flew into the night.

It was only a second later when Malfoy had started off at a run of his own, following Nott through the room and into the next one. Harry turn and lean over the other side of the wall a bit to see them. Malfoy had caught up with Nott, and they were arguing in whispers.

In the previous room, Voldemort demanded for Bellatrix to come forward. She bowed in front of him, mumbling and cooing. "Find them," he ordered. "But do not kill them. Punish them for their unforgivable defiance, however you wish."

Bellatrix Lestrange was still in the white plain mask, but somehow Harry knew she was very happy. She stood again and walked slowly towards the hole in the wall where Nott and Malfoy had previously gone through.

Harry suddenly felt a pang of terror. He and Luna exchanged glances. In the next room, Nott had pushed Malfoy away, and apparated.

Bellatrix was coming through, and Malfoy was an open target. He seemed to be standing still, thinking. Bellatrix came into the room, took off her mask and they stared at each other.

Harry whispered urgently in Luna's ear. "Can you manipulate the Gravity or Wind Elements?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe…"

"Good enough. Take me down, behind her, then get me to Malfoy and bring us back up again, to the top of the wall on the other side."

Luna blinked. Harry took that as an affirmative.

She raised her hands. Harry withdrew his sword and jumped.

He felt himself fall just before the magic took him. Several things happened in the short amount of time it took for Harry to swing through the air in the wide arc: he took his sword to Bellatrix's back and sliced the blade through her shoulder. Next, as Bellatrix screeched and fell, he sheathed his sword and crashed into Malfoy, grabbing him and pulling him up with him as they ascended into the air.

Either Harry had miscalculated or Luna was not as good at the Elements as Harry thought she was. They never made it to the top of the next wall. Instead, they crashed right into it, and the unstable stone bricks crumbled as they impacted.

Between the rooms there was a hollow space, which they had not counted on. It was like a tunnel, only vertical, and had acted as the fort's heating system back when it was in use. In every middle room on every floor was a fire place, and each fire was connected to the one on each floor by way of the long chimney Harry and Malfoy had just crashed into.

They never made it to the next room.

Instead they fell down the chimney, and kept falling, their arms and fear wrapped around each other. Air whooshed past them as the plummeted down the centre of the fort, their robes and cloaks whipping around them.

Malfoy whipped out his wand and cast a spell. Their final landing on ash covered ground was dulled, though only mildly. The impact was still hard.

Before Harry could take a breath, however, a stone brick fell after him and hit him hard on the head.

He grunted. The first thing he registered was not pain, but the fact that there were stars in the way and he could not see.

He felt his body go through some kind of shock, and adrenalin pumped through his blood. He ignored the fact that he was stumbling because he had forgotten the use of his legs, and his hands were groping madly at his head and he wondered why.

He fell, _again_, but was caught by someone, who immediately was dragging him away, further into the darkness. It was loud where he was; a kind of low, beating sound, like the sound rocks made when piled on top of each other.

It was then, and only then, he started to feel the pain.

He closed his eyes and tried to push it away.

"Ow," he said finally, when there was stillness. He was sitting up, his head against something warm and _breathing._

Harry reflected that it had been another mission gone wrong, and they always did. He had tried to save Sirius, and it had not worked. And now Sirius was gone, and for all he knew, saving Malfoy had just had the same effect.

Harry could see nothing and hear nothing. It was a possibility they could both be dead.

Everyone he loved died, and it was all his fault.

Harry felt something tickle his cheek, and then he realized he was crying. And if he was crying, he was not dead, was he?

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, "I'm sorry I killed you."

"I'm not dead," said a soft, deep voice just near his ear.

Harry opened his eyes. It was pitch black except for one glowing star, just to his right, like a soul hovering in the endless stream of the afterlife.

"You should know, Potter," the voice continued, "that Slytherins don't die so easily."

"I want to die," Harry moaned, closing his eyes. "Then I'll be with Sirius again."

At this the voice said nothing. Harry's head hurt, a lot, and he moaned again.

"I almost killed you," said Harry, and realized he was talking to Malfoy, and if he was talking to Malfoy, that mean that Malfoy was alive.

Harry opened his eyes again and stared at the light. Eventually things went into focus; the darkness had walls and the light was being produced by a wand stuck in the dirt beside him.

He shifted and had a better look. He was sitting between Malfoy's legs, and Malfoy was sitting against the wall of the dry tunnel. Turning his head a bit Harry got a glimpse of Malfoy's pale neck and jaw.

Harry leaned forward and away from him. They both stood up, before Harry swooned a bit and Malfoy had to steady him.

Hands on Harry's shoulders, Malfoy said, "I'm not your godfather, Potter."

Harry finally looked up into Malfoy's grey eyes. Harry opened his mouth to say something.

It was a while before he said groggily, "Where are we?"

Malfoy exhaled loudly. He pushed Harry gently away before reaching down and pulling his wand out the dirt. "We appear to be underground, somewhere. The way we came in is completely closed off." He gave a Harry a glare.

Harry ignored him, still swaying on the spot. One side of the tunnel was indeed caved in; loose stones piled to completely block the way. In the other direction, the tunnel lead into thick blackness.

Malfoy's silver hair glowed in the dim light. "There's only one way to go."

"Hang on," Harry muttered. He groped the straps on his left arm with his right hand, and located the galleon pocketed there. "Should I call for back-up?"

Malfoy screwed up his face in disgust, which Harry knew to mean he was confused.

"I have a way to silently send orders to Dumbledore's Army," Harry explained.

The Slytherin pursed his lips and inclined his head. "Have a closer look at the walls first."

Harry pulled out his wand and cast _lumos_. He held it up and inspected one side of the tunnel. Against the light, Harry saw that the walls were just made of compacted mud and dirt, and that, in the light, the dirt seemed to sparkle green. When he fingered the wall, bits crumbled away.

"It looks like…" Harry murmured, "…floo powder."

"Exactly," Malfoy said triumphantly, tossing hair out his eyes. "We're in the Floo Network. Abandoned, probably, but still functional, I think."

With the _Proteanis transmute_ spell, Harry changed the seventh number on the coin to two, which told the others that he had just completed a mission and he was safe. He could order a rescue if he wanted, but he suspected he was still under the fort and therefore, still in Death Eater territory. If there was a chance they could escape on their own, he would rather not jeopardize anyone else's safety. He hoped Luna was okay, and was smart enough to apparate before the enemy found her.

"Alright," said Harry to Malfoy, "let's go home."

"There's a problem," he drawled. "Pegasus Lair isn't connected to the Floo Network."

Harry's heart sank. "Where can we go, then?"

The other boy put his hands in the pockets of his robe. "Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and their adjoining streets are gone. Blown up."

There was silence before Harry murmured the name they knew would be the only safe place left. "Hogwarts."

Malfoy's grim expression mirrored his own.

The Slytherin squatted and drew a small circle in the dirt with his wand. Then he cast _incendio_ and the circle burst into flames. The tunnel was lit up, its walls sparkling green, dazzling them.

Harry grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it into the fire. They looked at each other nervously yet resolutely, before grabbing each other again and stepping in, shouting at the same time: "Hogwarts!"

Hogwarts was Harry's home. It stood strong and magically on its lonely hill, surrounded by lake and fields, and enhanced by its great forest. He would not call it homely, and not necessarily safe either, but it was the only place he truly loved.

Pressed against Malfoy, he was spun through the floo. The flashing lights of many different fireplaces whipped past his eyes before he closed them and buried his face in Malfoy's shoulder.

It was, Harry realized, the first time he was reluctant to go the Scotland school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had betrayed Dumbledore and had scared many others by leaving the Dursleys' house and running away. Now he would have to face the teachers, and no doubt get punished for his actions.

He and Malfoy fell in a heap on the floor of Dumbledore's office. They hastily stood up, dusting themselves off and straightening their robes. Across the room, all Hogwarts's teachers were standing or sitting, drinking tea and staring right at them.

Harry swallowed and adjusted his glasses.

There were additional people: Charlie, Lupin and Tonks, who were looking at Harry with a mix of sadness and concern. The only person missing was Snape.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and stood up. "We're very glad to see you safe, Harry."

Next to Harry, Malfoy snorted. "Bet you wish I wasn't here. Isn't that right?"

"It would help ye if yer weren' wearin' Death Eater's clothes, Malfoy," said Hagrid in his large booming voice. He was up the back, his head almost touching the ceiling.

"You knew we were coming," said Harry quietly.

"Firenze predicted it, yes," answered Dumbledore gravely. There was a barely discernible "hurrumph" from Trelawney.

McGonagall put her cup of tea down on Dumbledore's desk and stood up. Malfoy crossed his arm defensively and Harry felt numb, his body limp. They both moved closer together. _It's us against everyone. This is our war, and no one else's._

"I think you should start explaining, both of you," said Professor McGonagall. Harry looked up and into her eyes, then moved his gaze over everyone else individually.

Harry took a deep breath and began. "We weren't kidnapped. We faked the whole thing. Dumbledore's Army and the Dragon League took hold of - "

"Dragon League?" McGonagall prompted, her face sharp and severe.

"Yes," said Malfoy proudly. "A little army of my own."

The door opened then and Snape strolled in, though his arrival did nothing to alleviate the tension in the room. He took in Harry, before his black eyes fixed on Malfoy. "So you arrived safely then, Mister Malfoy, after being foolishly thrown down a hole and crushed by an outsized quantity of falling rock?"

Of course, Harry realized, if Snape was still working as a double agent for Dumbledore, he had been there at the Death Eater meeting. He had also let Moon leave with the harpies. Harry narrowed his eyes at his Potions teacher, and felt a surge of hatred for him, if it were possible to hate Snape more than he already did.

"Severus," Dumbledore greeted. "Mister Potter and Mister Malfoy were just about to explain everything." Then Dumbledore gave Harry an encouraging look, and that was when Harry realized he hated him too.

But Harry opened his mouth and spoke dispassionately. It gave him some satisfaction, however, to speak about something so grand and special that a whole roomful of great, older wizards and witches knew nothing about. He told his audience about Pegasus Lair, about how Ron, Hermione and Malfoy had come to get him, about how they practiced every offensive and defensive spell they could find. Malfoy told them some things too, about the raids on the destroyed towns, how they had perfected the Blood Charm in the beginning to protect everyone on the compound.

Neither of them talked about the particularly Dark magic they had practiced and perfected, and the fact that they could all apparate, as it was illegal. But they did tell them about how they had kidnapped blood relatives to keep in the core of Pegasus Lair.

At this McGonagall demanded they take their blood so they could enter the sanctuary. Dumbledore said that only Malfoy's blood was to be taken, in which Malfoy responded that it was revolting and unfair.

Near the end there was the predictable commotion and discussion between the adults, and random questions thrown Harry's way, which Harry answered in monosyllables.

He was just _so tired._

And his head was pounding with the beat of a drumming pain.

Eventually all the adults left except for Dumbledore and Lupin. Malfoy sat in a now vacant seat and sucked in his cut fingers. Harry stared at nothing and refused to look at anyone.

He knew the Professors and Aurors would make it to Pegasus Lair and find his friends there. He knew they would walk through the corridors and find the remnants of battle in every classroom. He knew they would go down the west wing and find the relatives, including Dudley and the little girl Malfoy had kept there. He knew they would find their potions, their notes, and their letters. Then they would go into the hall and see all the mats on the ground, and the mural up the back, with everyone's names, animals and handprints there. There was also the portkey that led to the place where letters were received. Harry hoped they found the dormitory, and brought back his things.

Malfoy was next to leave the office. Harry went after him and saw him change into his Dragon League uniform with the press of his earring as he walked away and around a corner. Harry stopped in the corridor, and looked out a large window at the deserted school grounds. He pressed his face to the cold glass and stood there for some time.

It was not over yet, he knew.

It is just the beginning.

Lupin came out the office stood next to Harry. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder, a gesture that was not comforting at all. With his other hand, Lupin put something cold and hard in Harry's own. Harry lifted his arm and spread his fingers. Lying on his palm was a thick gold chain, and attached to it was a gold crescent pendant - the moon. Melded on the inside of the crescent was an orange orb that Harry knew as an amber jewel. He stared at it.

"We're alone," Lupin said finally in his deep rich baritone. "We can look after each other."

Harry disagreed. And besides, Lupin had had a part of Sirius Harry could never touch and that made Harry spiteful.

He turned to his old professor and looked at him with cold eyes. Lupin looked away and at Harry's throat instead, his other hand came up to smooth down Harry's shoulder and across his shoulder blades.

If it had been any time before Pegasus Lair, Harry would have welcomed Lupin into himself gladly.

But times were different and what Lupin had said was a lie.

Harry turned away and out Lupin's arms. He had his army, he even had Malfoy, and that was all he needed.

Walking away, he said one last thing to the man he could have loved but had chosen not to.

"No, Remus, I am not alone."

End of Part I


	7. Magic without Consent

Can I just say how sorry I am this chapter took so long? My excuse would be that I had lost interest for a while, and then this chapter was hard to write, and I'm still kinda unsatisfied with it. I shall promise myself once again to write a PF chapter a month. I must!

**Part II - Dark Magic **

Chapter Seven - Magic without Consent

_In my field of paper flowersAnd candy clouds of lullaby  
I lie inside myself for hours  
- Imaginary (Evanescence) _

There's an answer if you look inside your soul  
And the sorrow that you know will melt away  
So when you feel like hope is gone  
Looking inside you and be strong  
And you'll finally see the truth  
That a hero lies in you  
- Hero (Mariah Carey)

Take a minute to understand me  
I'm everything you need  
And in this world a good man is hard to find  
Can't face the world without you  
Can't even sleep at night  
You'll think about this day and realise I was the one.  
- You Know (Boys 2 Men)

And candy clouds of lullabyI lie inside myself for hours- Imaginary (Evanescence) 

Only one table stood, running the length of the Great Hall. Harry Potter sat at it, alone, with only three days of holidays left, and then his friends and the rest of the school would be back and the Hall would be full.

Well, as full as it would be at a time like this. War took casualties of all ages, after all.

The teachers were around somewhere, doing the sort of things teachers do. The only other student in the castle was Draco Malfoy, who Harry had not seen for two days.

So it was with mixed emotions that Harry watched Malfoy stroll through the doors and up to Harry, wearing his Dragon League uniform on his skinny frame and a determined expression on his face. Surprise, Harry felt, relief, annoyance but overall, happiness. He smiled.

Malfoy sneered and crossed his arms. "Wipe that silly grin off your face, Potter," he drawled, "we have business."

"Right." Harry nodded, amused. He closed his history text and rolled up his parchments. As soon as the table top was clear, Malfoy slammed a book down upon it.

"Make sure you get that read before school commences. Put it in your bag for now."

Harry read the title of the thick heavy book before putting it in his bag. _Elemente Sans Magik_, it read. He stood up and followed Malfoy out the Hall, through the next and then outside.

Just as he stepped out, he pressed fingers to his ear and his clothes transfigured with a _woosh_ into his uniform of black Tebo and Manticore leather. "So…" said Harry, "how've you been?"

"Pardon?" snapped Malfoy, who was marching in front. "Yes, fine. Listen, you have to learn your final level." He glanced over his should to look at Harry, who was confused, and showed it. "You must take the pledge - oh for fuck's sake, don't walk behind me!"

"Er, right," muttered Harry as he caught up with the Slytherin. A wind blew and their cloaks billowed behind them as they travelled across the grass to the Forbidden Forest.

Malfoy took a deep breath - he seemed to be distracted and possibly anxious. "Do you want to know the Dark Arts, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry immediately.

"And I know," continued Malfoy, his voice taking on low, covert tones, "you learnt a lot at Pegasus Lair, but this is different. There are rules, and legalities." Malfoy turned his head slightly and looked Harry in the eye for the first time that day.

"Look Malfoy, I'll do it, okay? Whatever it takes. You can rest assured that you will feel no guilt anytime soon."

Malfoy flushed, looking angry. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. But alright." And then they were trespassing through the forest. Light streamed through the trees, and the air seemed thicker, full of the moisture trapped by the thick trunks around them and the damp soil below. Malfoy took a step away from Harry and turned to him with a dramatic swirl.

"Alright," he said loudly as he visibly took in a deep breath. "What is Dark magic?"

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

Malfoy's shoulders slumped. "I am your master, you are my apprentice."

This time Harry stood up straight and stared with wide eyes. "_What_?"

The other raised an eyebrow. "You said you would, Potter. 'Whatever it takes' you said." But then he got distracted and narrowed his eyes, his focus suddenly on Harry's throat.

Harry brought a hand to it and felt something hard and cold sitting there. He grabbed it and looked down. "Oh," said Harry awkwardly. Why he had placed the pendant within the uniform charm he was not so sure. "It was a present from someone."

Malfoy looked away and waved a hard, seeming to Harry as if he were feigning disinterest. "Just answer the fucking question; we have a lot to get through."

"Alright," Harry nodded, standing up straight. "Dark magic is - " and then he stopped. Strangely enough, he did not know the definition. He knew what was illegal by laws established by the Ministry of Magic, yes, and which spells and artefacts were classified as Dark - but not the definition of the class itself.

Malfoy smirked knowingly. "Lost for words, Potter? The Boy Who Lived not know what he's up against? You should be glad I'm here to teach you."

Harry gave him a contemplative look. "What's in it for you, exactly?"

"The Cause of course," he drawled before letting out a sharp bark of laughter. "You'll know about the master-apprentice bond later."

Harry swallowed and licked his lips.

Malfoy started to stroll in the small place. "Dark Magic simply translates to: Magic Without Consent."

Harry nodded, listening. "Is it like, casting a curse on someone without their consent?"

The Slytherin sucked in a breath and ran a hand through his silver hair. "No, nothing like it. Just shut up and listen, alright?

"In every wizard and witch there is magic. It courses through their blood, and we draw upon it when we cast magic with our wands or, when we do that little bit of wandless magic we sometimes do." He paused and stopped walking, as if deliberating whether to continue or not. "That's why the pure-blood lines are so important -"

"Don't start," Harry growled in a warning.

"When people speak of blood getting diluted," said Malfoy defensively, "they are being _literal._"

Harry glared.

"Crabbe and Goyle may not be the smartest Grindylow in the lake, but I'll bet you anything their blood is _thick_ with magic!"

"I rather not talk about pure-blood inbreeding, thanks," snorted Harry.

Malfoy started to pace again. "So when we draw upon another source of magic, and that source has not given permission, it is…" Malfoy raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

"Magic Without Consent," said Harry, resigned.

Malfoy stopped walking and gave Harry one of his thin, patronising smiles. "Can you give me some examples?"

Harry thought for a moment before answering. "Power Stones," he said triumphantly. "That's why they're illegal: their magic can be drawn upon easily but can have unpredictable results. Also, Power Stones are said to have souls, and drawing magic from them without consent is… bad?"

Malfoy nodded. "I said examples, Potter." He put particular emphasis on the plural.

Harry took the hint. "Okay, um, what about… summoning? Summoning a creature from its natural habitat, pulling it away from its home, that's not right, is it?"

"No," agreed Malfoy, "that is Dark too. But come on, Potter, you can do better than that."

Harry gave him a wry smile. "You want me to mention Elements, don't you?"

The response he got was an eye roll. "So, what about them?"

Harry bit his lip and thought. All Elemental magic was summoned from the Earth, right? So that meant… "Earth doesn't want us to use its Elements."

Malfoy put his hands on his hips. "_Her_ Elements, Potter. It is believed that the Mother Earth has a soul of pure Spirit Element. From this, other Elemental magic is formed: Fire, Earth, Water… all the way up to Death and Holy. To call upon the Elements like we have is considered…" he paused. "Forbidden."

"Because," Harry tried, "she hasn't given us permission, and it's usually unpredictable, like Power Stones?"

The Slytherin hesitated. "Right… But there's more to it. Her spirit isn't never-ending - it is constantly being made through the spirits of the dead. They say the dead go though a huge process. If they don't end up as ghosts, they still sort of hang around just on the edge of reality, in this other world. And then, finally, when a spirit forgets who they were when they were alive, they sink into the Mother's Spirit, and from there new life is made. There's a balance.

"But -" and here he rubbed at his jaw "- wizards have been known to draw upon her, and in doing so depleting the source. _That's_ why it's been made illegal; it hurts Earth. The less people do it the better."

Harry frowned. "Then why are we doing it?"

Malfoy gave Harry what Harry thought seemed like a pleading look. "It doesn't matter if it's a small group of us; the Mother probably doesn't mind. Besides, we're drawing upon her magic for a good cause, aren't we? Once we've saved her, we'll stop. For all we know, she's giving us her consent anyway."

"You don't know that," said Harry, shaking his head.

Malfoy shrugged. "Well anyway, come over here." He gestured for Harry to stand beside him. "You want to know which Elements you were born to manipulate, don't you?"

Harry watched the other's profile, and found that he did want to, very much, especially after seeing Luna heal people with her bare hands. He murmured an assent.

"Okay, now watch. I'm just going to ask Earth for the energy. You have to simultaneously reach inside your own soul, and your own blood. Understand?" Malfoy brought up his arms, palms facing upwards, fingers relaxed and slightly curled.

Harry waited. Malfoy closed his eyes and exhaled. In the space between his hands, the air moved as if shifting in and out of focus, and then there was a ball of silver light, just hovering there.

It expanded and grew, from the size of a Snitch, then growing slowly to the size of a Quaffle. Malfoy spread his hands to accommodate, and with the larger diameter Harry could see much more detail. Harry knew it as the white, shimmering gas that was always cold - but there was more to it. Circling around and through the ball of magic was something silky and white - like a flowing satin ribbon.

He had not noticed Malfoy open his eyes until Malfoy spoke. "Obviously, these are the two Elements I specialise in," he said softly. "It's innate for me to feel these Elements a lot stronger than any others. One of these is Ice, you can see that, I hope. Do you know what the other is?"

Harry found Malfoy's 'teacher mode' was getting on his nerves. He shrugged. "White means pure… I'm not sure."

Malfoy smirked. "Life, Potter." Then he frowned. "Not sure what I'm supposed to do with it though; not like I can revive people. Okay, now your turn."

Harry gave him an alarmed look, before complying. He held out his hands like Malfoy had, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He silently asked the Mother for… for what? The Elements in his soul, he supposed, and felt a tug somewhere in his stomach. _Bring in the magic I was born into._

His fingers tingled with it, his body vibrated. When he inhaled, he felt it too and when he opened his eyes…

The ball of energy was a deep, dark green, almost black. He tensed the muscles in his hands and the ball of energy grew to something large, wild and absolutely magnificent. Each breath he took was like inhaling power. It was a strange, smoky green, the sphere - but that was not all. He saw that it was dotted around the edge with an almost florescent green, and circling around it like strings of bright pink cloud was something else entirely.

He glanced to the side, and the expression on Malfoy's face threw his concentration. Malfoy was in awe, his eyes wide and… fearful?

Harry let the energy fade, his arms drifting back down to his sides, and gave Malfoy an enquiringly look.

Malfoy looked back at Harry and cleared his throat. "Well," he said, uncharacteristically lost for words, "how interesting." And he gave Harry a soft smirk.

There was a pause before Malfoy told him softly, "There were three Elements in all -"

"Three?" exclaimed Harry in surprise; it was rare for a wizard to have three.

"Yes. The first was… but it can't be…" he shook his head. "Spirit Element - that was the larger, dark green. Very rare for a wizard to tap into the Spirit. Well done, Potter."

"And the pink cloud thing?"

"Well," Malfoy hesitated. "I'm not sure, actually."

"You don't know."

He looked annoyed. "No, but the patches of bright green, that was most certainly Death."

Harry let out a groan. "Oh, just great."

Malfoy shrugged.

"So…" Harry ventured uncomfortably, "there's Spirit, and Death, and something else you can't name."

"It wasn't in that book I gave you, anyway. Sometimes," he shrugged again, "there's Elements that are so rare, they only ever get conjured once a century. And there are some Elements that haven't been discovered yet, I'm sure."

Harry bit his lip. "It's just one more thing I can add to the list of 'things that make me special for reasons no one can see'."

"Get off your high horse, Potter," Malfoy suddenly snapped, sneering. "People sacrifice everything to gain the power you have."

Harry glared at him. "Well they can have it. I don't want it!"

"It takes great responsibility!" Malfoy snarled. "You can't just give it to anyone, and frankly, I don't think you deserve any of it."

Harry clenched his jaw and looked back at him. "You don't mean that."

Malfoy's eyes flickered away from Harry and back again. "People abuse their power in the worst ways."

"Voldemort, you mean."

Malfoy winced violently and hissed in a breath through his teeth.

"I'm not going to abuse - whatever this is - like he did," Harry raved, "ever."

Malfoy leaned forward, so that they were almost nose-to-nose. "Glad to hear it, Gryffindor." Then he stood back and calmed. "Would you like some lunch?"

"Um."

"Yes, me too." And then he pushed past Harry and strode of in the direction of the castle.

Harry walked quickly after him. They came out the forest and into the sunshine once more. "I promise I won't do anything stupid!"

Malfoy laughed loud and hard.

"I mean, not like that, you know that, don't you? We'll find out what the Element is, and then we'll know, right? And we'll figure this all out. Together."

Malfoy looked over. "Right. Together, then."

Harry nodded and Malfoy gave him a small smile. Then he swung a friendly arm over Harry's shoulder, which made them stumble a bit. They laughed, and Harry felt the tension lift.

"Who did give that thing to you anyway?" asked Malfoy as Harry clung one hand to his waist.

Harry's free hand went up to clasp the amber pendant. "I told you, a friend."

"Wouldn't happen to have been, oh I don't know, the werewolf?"

Harry favoured Malfoy with an enigmatic smile. "Maybe."

"Funny. I thought the old Professor was too poor to give young boys expensive gifts."

Harry's smile faded. "I hope you're not insinuating -"

"No insinuation," said the Slytherin quickly. "Just… strange, that's all."

"He's lonely."

The other raised an elegant blonde eyebrow. "Is he really?"

"It probably meant a lot to him, or something. Wanted me to have it. Probably because, you know, I was his best friends' son and godson."

They stopped by the large doors that lead to the Entrance Hall. Malfoy looked at Harry squarely, then lifted up a hand to finger the pendant around Harry's neck. "You know what this is, don't you?"

Harry did not like the fact that he did not, in fact, know its origin.

"There is an organisation of werewolves," Malfoy explained, "whose main trade is jewellery. They like melding things from pure Dwarf gold because obviously, they can't touch silver. And amber is considered their soft of… national jewel. Amber, of course, is usually worn with silver, so when you see amber jewellery paired with gold, it means it has come from this particular sect of Lycan jewellers. And besides, it's in the shape of the moon." He dropped his hand.

"And you should be careful," he said before opening one of the doors. "Magical artefacts of that nature tend to be Hexed with something."

"Or Charmed," Harry countered. "Could have a Protection Charm on it."

Malfoy looked at him pointedly. "For all you know," he drawled, before stepping inside.

Harry weighed this information before he stepped though. But no matter what he thought about it, it all came down to one fact: Remus had given the pendant to him. And yes, he was unsure why, though he knew it certainly was not payment for sex like Malfoy had insinuated. All Harry knew was that he loved Remus to some degree, and he trusted him, and it must have been important to Remus if it was as expensive as Malfoy had made it out to be. Harry would keep it safe for him.

It glinted in the candlelight as Harry strolled into the Great Hall, where everyone was seated at one end of the table. He went over and sat between Remus and Charlie, across from Snape and McGonagall. He spotted Hagrid and gave him a little wave. Dumbledore sat at the head and greeted Harry enthusiastically.

"How are you Harry? Good I hope, nice to see you're well!"

"Er," said Harry, adjusting his glasses, "hello Professor."

"Tuck in there Harry - yes, Sybil? Oh, indeed, I have finished my tea; check the leaves if you like…"

"So how have you been, Harry?" asked Charlie awkwardly as Harry filled his plate with a some mini quiches and a few triangular sandwiches. "Heard you got into a bit of trouble."

"You could say that," said Harry. Charlie was the second oldest brother of the Weasleys, and like Fred and George, he had that squat, muscled look inherited from their mother. Harry knew him the least of all the Weasleys; he was always away in some far off country studying dragons. Harry searched for a topic of conversation. "Um, so, what are you doing here? In Hogwarts, I mean. Are you the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

Charlie laughed and shook his head. "No, no. That, I'm afraid, is Tonks's job this year." He gestured down the table to where Tonks was sitting, talking animatedly to an irritated looking Draco Malfoy. "Lupin and I are here to help Hagrid with - er. Well," he lowered his voice and moved closer to Harry's ear. "Order business, you know."

"What kind of Order business?" Harry pressed.

Remus gave Charlie a disapproving look, before saying to Harry, "Don't worry about it, Pup. Rather boring, really."

"Rather boring?" exclaimed Charlie in dismay. "_Rather boring_? I don't think so. Don't know what your life has been like while I've been gone but - "

Remus reached an arm around Harry and slapped Charlie over the head.

Malfoy had left the table before Harry could go and talk to him again. So instead, Harry had gone and spoken with Hagrid and Firenze. He had tried to get more information on the 'Boring Order Business' from Hagrid, but not such doing. Hagrid kept his mouth shut about it, and had Firenze's assistance in changing subject.

Afterwards Harry went back up to his empty dorm room and wrote a few more paper flowers to Sirius. About his day, about the amber pendant… and about the three Elements. How much use was Death and Spirit, anyway? The third Element may have been the only really useful thing and he did not even know what it was.

He decided to read the book on Elements Malfoy had given him. It gave the history that Malfoy had pretty much already explained: that wizards had been doing it for thousands of years, and finding they were pulling energy from a depleting source, made it illegal. Then it had an A to Z guide to each Element; its properties, what it looked like, colour codes…

Harry asked Dobby for his dinner to be taken in the Gryffindor Common Room. By the time it was time for bed, he had finished his holiday readings.

Stars twinkled in a darkening sky, and a breeze ran through the room, rustling Harry's curtains. He lay on the bed on his back, and turned his head to the side to look out the window.

Only, someone was stand there, obscuring his view.

Sirius stepped forward, out the shadows. His face was white and sad, his hair draped down his torso. "Harry. I love you."

Harry stayed where he was, his eyes wide, trying to take every part of Sirius in; every breath, every curve, every shadow the dips made in his plain white robe. "I know. I love you also."

"It's the choices you make now, Harry. Soon you will love another and in them you will find your salvation."

Harry was confused. "What do you mean?" _Oh God I'm dreaming; I can't move!_

He heard the flutter of parchments and his turned his head in the other direction. A young boy his age was standing there, holding a book in his hands. He looked a bit like Harry, with black curly hair and green eyes. The boy looked up. "You're just like me, Harry, just like me."

"Who are you?" Harry asked softly. Somehow he should not have to ask this, he should already know.

"I am at the end. I am at the end of your journey, and I am at the end of the long line between Dark and Light. Your place now is moving along this line."

"Harry," said Sirius from his other side. "Don't move. Don't go."

Harry looked up instead, still lying horizontal on his back. Ribbons of velvet circled around the limbs of another figure; this one naked, his modesty covered by the twists of velvet and the gathering of feathers. He looked like an angel from heaven, all white and silver. His breath was slow and calming. "I am at the middle, the centre," said Draco. "I am the line between the worlds."

"And if you stay with him you won't go anywhere," said the boy. He flipped a page of the book. "We're so much alike, you and I. Didn't you enjoy talking to me through the diary? Didn't we enjoy each other?"

"Don't go with him Harry," Sirius pleaded. "Anyone but him."

"I want to go with you."

"But Harry," Draco murmured, smiling at him from the canopy, "he's dead."

"You promise to look after me, Draco?"

Draco smiled, and a white feather spun down slowly to Harry, landing on his chest. "I promise."

The boy with the diary hissed and bared his teeth. Suddenly his eyes turned red and the pupils transformed into slits. "I'll destroy you!" But then Sirius was there, and had grabbed his shoulders, and then they were disappearing, floating away into dense fog.

"Harry," said Draco, "look at me." Harry did. "Do you love me, Gryffindor?"

"Always, Slytherin. Always."

Harry blinked, and Draco was gone.

But Harry was awake. It was dark outside, and there was no fog in his room at all. Harry kept his position on the bed and took deep breaths. _Just a dream. _

There was a whooshing sound from outside, and Draco Malfoy's head popped around the side of the window. He smirked when he saw Harry. "Potter," he greeted, "care for a ride?"

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

Malfoy flew into the room on his broom and dismantled. "About midnight." He looked Harry up and down. "What's that?"

Harry followed his eyes to his own lap. He picked up the large white feather and held it out. "Um, a feather?"

"Captain Obvious strikes," murmured Malfoy. "Cute. Okay, come on, get up. Let's do something."

Harry yawned. "Aren't you tired?"

"Nope. I'm bored though. So let's do something; you're the only entertaining person here."

"Was that a compliment?"

"Don't think too much on it. It was either you or Professor Hagrid."

Harry laughed, then grabbed his broom and followed Malfoy outside, relishing the night air as it pushed its soft fingers through his hair.

Only a minute later they were hovering over the sparse mass of the lake; the wind rippled its dark surface, making the reflection of the moon wink at them from below. Malfoy's hair was undulating beautifully in the breeze; Harry was suddenly caught by the sight of him, mantled on his broom and expression pensive as he peered at the water. Malfoy put his arm out away from him, palm facing down towards the water.

Mist shot from his hand and in a slow spiral it curved towards the water. Where it touched the surface more mist grew and icicles appeared, freezing the waves in mid-ripple, whitening the area. The small circle grew to about two metres in diameter, and then Malfoy steadied it by curling his fingers. Slowly he lowered himself down, and gestured to Harry to follow him.

Hovering just above, Malfoy dismantled and stepped carefully onto the circle of ice, mist still being summoned to keep the temperature low. It wobbled a bit as it took his weight, but he steadied himself and grinned up at Harry. Something in Harry broke, then, and he ached for the boy below him. It was stupid really, but the moonlight, the summer air, the water - it took his breath away.

"Look, Potter, I'm Jesus!"

Harry chuckled, a little nervously.

"Are you coming down with me, or not?"

Harry frowned. Why was he hesitant? If he fell into the water it was not a big deal, really; but perhaps it was the embarrassment he was scared of more than anything. He did not want to look stupid in front of the other boy.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Then, after a short pause, he held out his other hand, smirking at Harry softly.

"Do you trust me, Gryffindor?"

Harry exhaled.

Then he took the awaiting hand, and then levelled himself off his broom. He stepped on the ice sheet.

It quivered. Harry braced himself on Malfoy's shoulders. He looked at the other and said, "Are we friends?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "No. I told you before: we are Master and Apprentice." He stared at Harry unblinkingly. "I will teach you to be strong with your Elements, like I am. Watch."

Harry held on even more tightly as Malfoy raised the hand not summoning ice mist. He flicked his fingers and from them grew a white solid substance, like square tissue paper. With every flick on his fingers the square grew and grew, then bent, so that eventually the bottom touched the water and the top was over their heads. It shimmered, sparkled, and curled around them, encasing them in a complete cylinder.

"Life."

"It's beautiful," Harry breathed, glancing all around. Looking above was like seeing the end of a long tunnel at the night sky.

He looked at Malfoy, whose eyes seemed glazed over - concentrating, no doubt - and his heart contracted with some sort of need. His hands ached to touch Draco in an intimate way, his lips quivered with the thought of kissing him. God, he thought, and swallowed thickly.

He leaned forward, and kissed him.

All through his mind was the repeated word: _why why why why_? But Draco's lips were so soft against his own, and when their mouths opened, Draco's tongue was even softer. It was slow, agonisingly so; and that was a good word: agony. Because that was what Harry felt at that moment, aching as he did, even as he took Draco's bottom lip between his own and sucked gently, and Draco tasted like beauty.

And darkness.

And through Harry's heated mind he belatedly realised he had been using Malfoy's first name in his thoughts.

He craved this kiss; he had wanted this kiss for so long, yet he had not known it until now. Harry brought his shaking fingers to caress Draco's face, and thought about evil things. If Sirius - _oh God, Sirius, my Sirius!_ - had tasted like sorrow, hate and anger, Draco tasted like evil. Lies, betrayal, mistrust, selfishness, darkness, power, ambition.

It was everything Draco Malfoy represented.

And Harry wanted more.

He pulled back, breath coming fast, and nuzzled Draco's face a little. Why? he asked himself. Because Draco was the most beautiful person he had even seen. Because ever since the two had met when they were younger, there had been something strong and heated between them. Every conversion, every touch, every look had been filled with something hot and twisted.

Harry moved back a little. In the dark Draco's lips were parted, his grey eyes glinting strangely.

Harry took a deep breath and whispered, "Do you love me, Slytherin?"

Draco's smile was slow and malicious.

"Never, Gryffindor," he said. "_Never._"

**To Be Continued.**

Please review! I really appreciate everyone's feedback, even the little ones, but especially the big ones.

I want to say a few words to a couple of awesome reviewers:

Chibikat the Canuck - Thanks! Tenderhooks - yes, I think I know what you mean. Also, I think you may be right about Quan. I actually should have spelt his name 'Chuan' because his sister's name is spelt with a 'ch'. I think his name is 'John' in English, yet the real spellings of their names should be Quan and Qo Qang. I think, not too sure.

Sak - Thank you for your fantastic review! You have seriously touched me with it, and reminded me of my characters and why I love them.


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